We Could Have

The first real memory I have is my 5th birthday party. I don't mean a story of a memory that I've been told, the first real thing I remember. I remember sitting around my dining room table with a little birthday crown on my head. I remember looking at the smoke from the candles, waiting for everyone to be done singing, so I could blow out my candles and eat my cake. It's the perfect first memory to have.

Having my loving family surrounding the table, sitting in their chairs. My mom standing above my older brother, trying to video me smiling, ready to make my wish. My dad keeping my little sister from trying to eat the cake already. 

And then, there were the Johnsons. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson sitting side by side in chairs opposite my dad. 

Jaimie Johnson sitting in the chair next to me.

2 weeks from that exact day, we'd celebrate his 5th birthday in the same way. Just our family, the Andersons and the Johnsons, combined into one.

The second memory I have would be three days after I turned 5. My brother is 2 years older than me, my sister only a year younger. Jaimie and I the same age.

We were playing outside in the front yards of Jaimie's and my houses. I found a smooth rock that I could use to play hopscotch with, while my sister, Amelie used pink chalk to draw our game on the driveway to Jaimie's house.

Jaimie and my brother, Adrian, would sit on the grass next to the driveway, while Amelie and I played the only game we knew how to play.

It was a warm, summer day, with only a slight breeze. I wore a pink top with blue jean shorts, my hair in a ponytail with a pink bow, and light up sparkly shoes. 

I threw the rock.

"One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven!"

I went to pick up my rock, when I tripped over the laces to my tennis shoes and fell directly onto my knee.

I remember crying and being so sad that now I had a huge scrape on my leg. Adrian and Jaimie rushed over to check on me, and Amelie? Amelie was picking grass.

"Alessia? Are you okay?" Jaimie asked.

"No! My, my, MY KNEE!" I looked down to see a scrape on my leg and started crying even harder.

Adrian carried me into our house, Jaimie and Amelie in tow. He sat me on the counter and grabbed the first aid kit.

Within an hour I was back to smiling my toothless smile, sucking on a strawberry popsicle. 

Jaimie was my best friend, but Adrian was always the best older brother anyone could ask for. My whole life, he was always right there with whatever I needed, even if it was just a bandaid and a popsicle.

At least until I was 13. When I was 13, my mom and dad sat Adrian, Amelie, and I down around the dining room table. The dining room table that I had sat at with my family for each of my birthdays. The dining room table that we sat at for every birthday.

"Mom? Dad? What's going on?" Adrian asked them after a few moments of silence passed. 

"Kids, there's no easy way for us to say this but…" My dad started, "Your mom and I are getting a divorce."

Even today, I still don't know what else they said. All I remembered was being allowed to leave the table after a long conversation went by, and all the things that came after.

My dad packing up all his stuff to leave, all the arguments on who would live where when, my sister wanted to only stay with my mom.

Adrian was 15 at the time, Amelie 12, and me 13. It made sense that we could make our own choices. To this day, Amelie stats with mom all the time, whereas Adrian and I go back and forth.

But from that day on, Adrian and I stopped talking. He went from being my best friend, to just my moody older brother. He changed that day. 

I missed the way my brother used to care for me. But now, I've learned a valuable lesson about love.

It's not always romantic and it's not always conditional. But sometimes it's not platonic either.

Jaimie Johnson had taught me love could be to death.