I remember a time some summers back.
Brother and sister climb into the bath tub,
bathing suits on,
ready to relax and have fun.

Brother wasn't always so nice to sister.
He yelled things, terrible things.
He hit hard, awfully hard.
He said he didn't know his own strength.

Sister doesn't know if he meant physically or emotionally.

But that day was good.
It was a day of sun and water.

Brother wanted to see how long sister could hold her breath.
So she went down.
Underwater where the sounds echo and distort.
She waited.

Sister came up a half minute later.

Suddenly, brother pushed sister back under.
Sister had barely gotten a breath in.
Sister waited a few seconds.
Then it got hard to breathe.

Sister pushed her brother.
Started pushing
against his arm.

Sister cried:
"Brother,
let
me
breathe."

Brother released sister's head.
Brother laughed at my tears.
Brother scoffed my fear.

Brother never said "sorry".


Today, years later, the story is the same.
Only now,
the water is depression
and the brother
is
my
family.