I’ve known my siblings since forever. But do I actually know them? I think I do. Then I don’t. Then I do. Then I don’t again. It’s complex. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before. I’ve four sisters and two brothers. One or two read my blog. So, this could be a little tricky. I might get more feedback or none at all. Hmm…

That said, this really is about how I remember my siblings. More so because of the recent interactions, and somewhat renewed relationship with my two older brothers. As of the first week of August, they joined me as my mum’s carers as she now needs attention, 24×7. My two brothers are quite close in age to me. One is 5 years, and the other is 2 years older than me. All my elder sisters live overseas. They occupy the 1 to 4 spots in the sibling totem pole. My brothers take up the in-between positions of 5 and 6. And, I am number 7.

The very young me has no clear memories of my sisters chatting or playing with me. The adult me, of course, is in touch and much closer with all of them. Text messages, phone calls and visits. My early recollection of them, however, are limited to specific imprints. Sister number 1 was a bit of a major domo aka bossy. Sister number 2 used to walk past my classroom, every morning during her breaktime to check how I was, when I started Primary 1 at the St. Nicholas Convent. She was then an ‘O’ level student. She also teased me for carrying my teacher’s bags and books. I was class monitor and minion (I didn’t know it at the time).

Sister number 3 was loving. I have this image of her feeding me while sitting on the front door steps, presumably of our home. Sister number 4 was studious. I remember her grabbing our plates as we finished our last mouthful of food. Her complaint was my brothers and I took far too long to finish our dinner, and that ate into her study time. We always remind her of her past ‘mistreatment’ every chance we get, and laugh about it.

Back to my brothers. As children, we spent a lot of time together. I was one of the ‘boys.’ Paige boy hairstyle, and always dressed in shorts and yes, ‘tailored’ short-sleeved shirts. Why not T-shirts? I don’t know. I only wore dresses when I started school. We played together and with the neighbourhood kids.

We enjoyed ‘Chaba’ – a tag game of running, aiming and throwing a smallish rubber ball really hard at whomever was within range and/or probably less liked.  A shooting game – with wooden sawn guns, handmade by my inventive oldest brother, with Suji fruits for bullets. ‘Sap sai’ – a juggling game similar to juggling a football. The ‘sap sai’ was made of rubber, usually from old tyres, cut into round discs and stacked on top with chicken feathers. It had to be kicked and kept in the air for as many counts as possible. We also played marbles. We each had our own hand-stitched bags, courtesy of my mum. With no computers or computer games, we played outdoors.

As a child, I remember my oldest brother was more protective and caring. We got on well with each other. That bond remained intact all through our adult lives. Naturally, we had our fair share of ‘falling out’ periods. We never yelled at each other because he practiced avoidance rather than confrontation. Somehow, we always managed to make up despite his transgressions. Yes, his transgressions. As was the case with my mum’s care. I was not happy with him on many issues, and I told him so. After another timeout, we are back to ‘normal’ now. That is until he upsets me again. His caring style/ways with my mum is a little slapdash but he gets the job done.

As for brother number 2, we’ve never really been close despite spending so much time together when we were little. At best, we are politely pleasant to one another. We’ve spoken about it many times. The relationship improves a little, and then we are back to that not-so-warm-square-one again. My mum’s condition brought us a little closer especially as we see each other every week. Previously, days and months would go by before our paths crossed. The stark difference even back in the pre-Covid and pre-mum-well days was brother number 1, never brother number 2, will call/text me when he’s at my mum’s for a visit and for me to join him for a chat/hug. Brother number 2’s caring style is organised, and he also gets the job done.

My lame conclusion is people, particularly siblings, are complex and dynamic beings. Just like me.