Lately, my things have been disappearing. Clothes that should be hanging in my closet end up in the laundry basket. The gummies my mom bought just for me slowly vanish, even though I haven’t eaten any. Sometimes my favorite penguin plush even turns up on my brother’s bookshelf. The culprit, of course, is my brother.
I was about to get mad, but then I stopped and thought about it. How often had I taken my brother’s things? To be honest, I wore his clothes pretty often. His favorite track pants were so comfortable that I kept borrowing them, and a few times I even went out wearing his clothes, thinking, He won’t notice.
And it wasn’t just clothes. Whenever my brother steamed dumplings, I’d sneak a few. I helped myself to his spicy noodles and frozen chicken. Once, I even cleared out all the cute stuffed toys from his room and brought them into mine. Still, he never really complained. On rainy days, he brought me an umbrella. When I wanted to buy ramyeon, he even lent me some of his allowance.
There were times when my brother annoyed me, but looking back, I think I was worse. He was someone I simply couldn’t live without.
I wonder what our heavenly family is really like. I used to think I was the one putting up with everyone else’s flaws, but maybe it was my family who had been covering for mine all along. Quietly taking care of one another—because “You are like me and I am like you.” Maybe that’s what family truly is.