I love my brother!

I really, really do. Waldo is such a great guy; has been ever since we were children.

Generally speaking, he is a very good person, and has become a better one ever since he took up Christianity (and nearly killed grandmother at it; she just can't understand why "her boy" didn't take to Catholicism, the family religion, instead) a couple of years ago. Now he follows all that good stuff they tell you in church, like not hating people, being compassionate... the works.

Sure, when we were kids he had his moments; he IS my older brother, after all. He induced me to stick keys in electrical contacts, to climb tall furniture from which I couldn't come back down (y terminaba gritando por ayuda desde las alturas del librero), sent me to buy soda in his stead, convinced me to run away from home when my mother refused to give him soda until he finished his homework(regresamos después de 20 minutos a pedirle dinero a mamá para poder cruzar el río en lancha y escapar... clásica lógica infantil), beat me up as a baby a couple of times (hasta que aprendí a dejar ojos morados), and so on.

As we grew older, there were occasional fights over the most random of things and disagreements, as always. But we became very close. I never showed mom my good grades (nearly all A's back then.. how time changes people) so that he wouldn't have to show his failing ones, kept quiet about the reports he got for his escapades at school, and always stayed a couple extra hours to wait for him while he was in detention.

I stayed quiet that one time I found cigarettes in his backpack, and covered up for his magazines. I helped him hide the bright red stain he put on his room's beige carpet, and stood, trembling, usually, in the way when my mother came at him after looking at his report card (well, I tried, my mother can be vicious).

He, in turn, drove me to the library for my books and always gave me money to spend when we went to the mall. He gave in to most of my requests, stupid as they might be. He cooked me food when we were left alone, and bought me sweets, bracelets and such when we went out. When I did something stupid, he would just roll his eyes and cover for me. He ignored me when I bullied him, and never contradicted me when he heard me lie to people.

He would help me with my homework when I didn't quite understand it (he was always that bit smarter, regardless of his terrible grades) and would do essays in my stead so that I was free to play word games with him when he was bored (tenía la terrible mañana de ponerle demasiada crema a los tacos. Hacía unos ensayos tanto emotivos como cursis, que me daba pena tan sólo leer en voz alta, sobre todo porque sabía que todo era una broma para él. A los maestros, en cambio, les encantaban; los creían llegadores. Waldo decía que ese era el truco. Wonder why he hardly ever did it for himself, though).

He would listen to my childish woes, and comfort me to the best of his abilities (which, considering he is not good with emotional outbursts means a lot). He let me sleep in his bed and hugged me through the night when I felt terribly scared for no reason and was afraid to sleep alone.

He was always a great brother. And that didn't change when we moved and he stayed. Even long distance, he finds the way to make us smile tenderly every so often.

True, I have to remind him of birthdays and other special occasions a week in advance, for he is terrible with dates, and he is not the most talkative when he calls, but he puts the most off-hand attention to details I have ever seen.

He sent the kids just the X-Box game they were dying for. Chitans has a collection of Spider Man, his favourite superhero, figures ranging from small to large. Pancho got a Simpson's chess set just when he was really getting into the game. Juan received just the movie titles he wanted to see.

As for me, I always got novels and books that interested me. I have a collection of videos and manga from my favourite anime. Bags, lenses, jewerly, lots of pretty things that make me smile.

This time though, when grandma came to visit she brought me a special gift from my brother: a novel.

Not just any novel, of course, but one I had SO wanted to read and couldn't because it's not in existence in Mexico. The book which one of my favourite movies of all time, from the great Miyasaki-Sama, is based on. One that I had resigned myself not to read for a while, and that I mentioned in passing to him.

I got Howl's Moving Castle. And it's beautiful, it really is. I just fell in love with it, and with Diana Wynne Jones as well.

The moment I saw it I knew it came from Waldo, and not my little cousin Abril, as my grandmother claimed mistakenly. And a great smile came to my face. It was so like him, sending the one thing I had desired for so long. I loved him so much then that I thought it impossible to feel any stronger.

Until I opened the book. In the first page, scrawled in his uneven handwriting, was a little message just for me:

"To my little sis Poli:

We may be miles away in distance, but close at heart."

And then I nearly teared up and loved him all the more. A Waldo le incomodan las cosas sentimentales, es malísimo para ellas. Which is why I realize the full worth of his scarce words. They speak an epic tale to me.

The words, as well, have such subtle echoes on the plot of the novel itself, though I doubt he knows that. I'm sure he only saw the movie and didn't read the book (he dislikes novels; he is more of a political and philosophical essay reader, oddly enough).

All in all, he made my day. Or weekend, really, since I started on the novel right away. It’s great fun.

I love my brother.