We Only Have Each Other.

Vivian's Love

Love is such a funny, weird, and complex idea of which gets debated constantly. Those four letters put together mean so much to one person and almost nothing to the next. Confessing and admitting love can really create a heavy impact no matter how you view it. A similar word is like, it does not have to same meaning but it does change the impact of what it means because like doesn't hit as hard as love.

I like her. That's cute.

I like this book. That's great!

I like tigers. Let's go to the zoo and see a tiger.

I like money. Who doesn't?

Now, when like becomes love, things change.

I love her. Wow, seriously? Her?

I love this book. Can I read it?

I love tigers. Let's get you as many tigers themed objects as we can!

I love money. Wow, someone's greedy.

Confessing and admitting to love is just as scary as acknowledging it. You can be accepted just as easy as you are turned away. You are either left a fool and ashamed, or like a champion and winning the one who dreamt of being with, possibly forever. A person sometimes is looked down upon and told they're in over their head, or praised and supported encouraging the person because love is a powerful thing. It blinds people, it motivates, it breaks hearts, it helps or puts a person down. But when it comes down to it, some will claim to hate love. Others love, love, some are indifferent and take it when it comes.

And for me? I welcome it, but I only hold a special love for one person. My little brother Eli, that little boy is the only one I could ever love, I loved the kid from when I first held him as a small baby. Our entire childhood felt as if it was just me and him, so our love created an unbreakable bond between us. This kid is my life, god only knows where I'd be without him. Growing up wasn't the best, our love is what got us through.

We had a frustrated, overworked, alcoholic of a mother. She had two jobs, one as a waitress in a diner by a train station, the other as a maid for a rich family in the next town. I only saw her when she'd come home late, bottle at hand. Whether it was full or half empty, it was as if the bottles were glued to her or by a magnetic pull. She lost her job as a maid, she says they moved across the country, but I really think they fired her, nevertheless, her drinking continued but the bottles weren't as fancy anymore. I feel like my love for her is through the pity I felt for her, she wasn't always like this, my dad was a victim to a bank robbery when I was only 5 years old. The robber shot my dad, Eli was only 2 weeks old so he's only seen him through pictures. Even worse, he's only seen my mother's smile through those images. My mom started working more, and longer shifts, and I can swear it is to avoid us. Eli looks too much like my father for her to bear. As he grew into a toddler my mom paid less and less attention to us- especially him. She started with crying repeatedly, then it faded to silence and turning away when he came near. He use to sob for "mommy" but mommy never answered. 

Eli crying for "mommy" soon turned to calling for "Vivi" which is me, Vivian his big sister. I became his guardian, I did what I could, my mom didn't necessary neglect us, she provided for us, but she started to notice I was stepping up and doing more for both Eli and me, so she slowed down and didn't try as much anymore. I like to think that she still loves us, what mother wouldn't? It probably just isn't as strong as it should be, but it's there, isn't it? I hate to think it isn't, so I choose to think it is.  

Eli is just as old as I was when we lost my dad, I'm 10 now, and I am amazed at the fact my mom continues to live this way. When coming home from school, I wait for Eli by the curb directly in front of the doorway of his kindergarten class.  The teachers have gotten use to seeing me, just with one look, they get Eli and he comes running to me. He has the biggest smile as he calls my name, parent's watch him run to me with a content smile, some look around to see if there is any adult near us, but no one ever says a word. He'd squeal whenever he'd come, his empty book-bag double the size of his body bouncing as he runs full speed at me. I bend my knees low enough that they touch the cement beneath me. I stretch my arms out to grab ahold of him.