Siblinks

There is, in Pride and Prejudice, a certain kind of relationship that Jane Austen explores and juxtaposes throughout the novel, and which most readers overlook --- that of siblings.

 

Allow me a bit of sentimentality and rumination at this point in my written ramblings. This is a subject matter that I hold dear to my secret heart.

 

Not a day passes when one or all of my siblings --- I have one sister and two brothers, all younger than me --- get in touch with me or with each other, whether through phone calls, text messages, or email. I usually take this for granted, but not today.

 

I know for a fact that compared to a lot of other brother-sister relationships, ours is a very close one despite all the seeming evidences to the contrary.

 

Growing up, we’ve had our share of arguments, bickering, tears, teasing, annoyances, pestering, fighting --- and oh, what fights they were! --- tantrums, door slamming, stomping off in the middle of a shouting match, slamming phones down and cutting each other off… I can go on and on and paint an ugly picture of a very boisterous and violent household. But in truth, it is nothing like that at all. Absolutely nothing.

 

More often than not, we talked over each other during dinner, poked fun at each other every chance we got, and teased one another mercilessly at the drop of a hat. We laugh a whole lot, though mostly at another sibling’s expense (or sometimes our very own parents, much to my mom’s dismay and consternation).

 

My sister and I are very different, like night and day. But we are not so different either. She is the epitome of girlishness while I am probably borderline tomboyish. (I’m sure my entire family would even say that I’ve gone past the borderline on this one, with my short hair and restless and adventurous nature.) She played with dolls, I killed them. She played house, I ran after dragonflies and climbed trees. She loved clothes and makeup, I threw on the first thing I could lay my hands on that were clean. She loved to shop, I hate malls. She walked gracefully, I skipped and bounced along.

 

We shared a room for most of our growing up years. And though, I wish we were more like Jane and Elizabeth Benett, sharing secrets and giggling under bed covers, what my sister and I had was something just as close and as precious.

 

Whenever my thoughts touch upon her, I instantly wish and hope and pray that she may have the same kind of friendships that I have. It pains me sometimes to think that she may be missing out on the wonderful freedom and candidness and strength that best girl friends bring to each other’s lives. I know she has her good friends, but I sometimes wonder if she has those lifelong bonds, like the ones I share with my best friends. I fervently wish for that for her, even just one. She deserves very good… the best kind of friends.

 

My younger brother and I used to be playmates, but as he grew older our relationship changed. I don’t know when he started to carry himself like an older brother to me. Of course, he can’t be an older brother figure to me in all aspects, but in some… especially when it comes to protecting me (and my sister) from horrid men and lousy relationships… that’s when I see how much he values us. And as I watch him with his daughter (whom I love to distraction and with a never ending supply of joy), I realize that he’s grown up to become a good man. Flawed (well, who isn’t?), but good. He is sometimes like Mr. Darcy to his sister, Giorgiana, to me. His demeanor is proud and aloof to the world, but with genuine affection for his sisters deep inside, which he doesn’t always show. He is himself a Mr. Darcy.

 

My youngest brother is like Mr. Bingley to his sisters, always affable and with a sense of humor. He tends to indulge us whenever he can, treating us to movies and meals. He and I usually go on a weekend movie date whenever we get the chance. It’s our bonding time, though not too much talking takes place. It’s just good to know --- comforting and touching --- that we’re together and in complete affinity with the rest of our world.

 

My brothers and sister, though I may sometimes complain about them with such vigor, are irreplaceable. They are a part of me as much as I am of them. I don’t think I can do without them, really. We will always be in each other’s lives and business. No two ways about it. And if my Mr. Darcy does come along, this is something he has to learn to accept, understand, and value.