On sunday, I saw a sister protectively hugging her little brother. He, in all his childlike innocence, irritated another kid. The kid pushed him to his sister and told her to take care of her brother.
She pulled him close, and wrapped her arms around him.
And when I looked in her eyes. I didn't see annoyance or a look of irritation, but acceptance of the fact that she was his guardian. And deep ungrudging unbias love. Maybe because blood is thicker than water, and she has accepted the fact that she is responsible for his safety. Not everybody accepts such responsibilities nowadays.
Yet she loves him simply because he's her brother.
Today, I saw the same scene. The siblings were around a decade older, though this time the roles were reversed. The brother was the older sibling and the sister the younger sibling. She helped him to his feet, and stuck by him, despite him pushing her away, in his drunken stupor.
Perhaps in the future, when she has a quiet moment to herself, when troubles overwhelm her, and darkness creeps upon the windowsill, the scene of him pushing her away might replay in her mind. She might sob, she might tear, despite her brother living oh so near.
Yet, it was with love that she stuck by him, and it is love that will see them true. Not bonded by gender or race or language or religion, but by blood. The same blood that beats within their hearts.
Two hearts are better than one.
