Meeting My Brother
When I first met you
it was winter.
I was five.
I remember being confused?
Why was everyone so excited?
It was just a baby.
I remember having to stay with grandma and grandpa.
Having to stay home
when my mommy and daddy weren’t there.
Where were they?
Why couldn’t I be with them?
After all, they were my parents.
I remember when grandma and grandpa
told me that I could see my parents.
We got in the car
and went to the hospital.
When we got to the hospital,
we went to the room that my parents were in.
But there was an unfamiliar person in the room.
It was a baby.
My parents said
“Come here, Hannah. This is your new baby brother.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Sure he was cute,
but I’m the cute one, not him.
I’m supposed to be the one that gets all the attention.
Then I thought,
“But he’s so small. He won’t get any attention.
My parents handed me the tiny thing.
“His name is Harrison,” they said.
I held him as I sat in an old, worn out chair.
I heard a quiet TV in the background
and the hushed whispers of my parents.
I held him
and thought about how cute he was,
as I stared at him and he stared at me.
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