We all have our own series of first time experiences. You might have not forgotten the thrill of your first plane ride or the embarrassment when you peed in your pants back in primary school.
But there are those experiences that you treasure most - and most of the time kept secret. Hidden in our inner-selves. Memories so vivid that they sometime give us a feeling that they never existed. Fantasies which we never thought could happen.
When I was young, about the age of 3 0r 4, I had this repeated memory of a boy in his teens. And since this happened many many years ago, I could not put into detail this seemingly weird moment of my childhood life. All I can remember is, I was on a room 0n a bright afternoon with this boy. He had put on the television while lying on the bed wearing nothing. The fact that he was naked did not bother me much. But what caught my attention was the noticeable hair just on top of his sexual organ.
Just like what any other kids will do, I stared at his naked body since I was not so sure of what I'm seeing. After a few minutes, he noticed the blank/curious look of my face that he called me to join him in bed. Being an obedient kid that I was, I climbed up in bed and sat beside him. And that was my first time seeing up-close the pubic hair.
I didn't know what happened after. Was I able to touch his organs? I really don't know. Perhaps he was just masturbating while watching x-rated materials.
I know, even with my young and innocent memory, that the incident did not only happen once but also on a few other occasions.
It was only a few years back when I came to realize that that boy in my memory happened to be Kuya Gerry, my half-brother, who at that time was about 13-15 years old. I've learned from my older cousins that one summer, he came to live with us even with the my mom's protest. And he and I had to share the same room.
My Kuya Gerry is the first son of my father to a woman he met before he married my mom. Although my mom knew that my dad already has a son to another woman she still decided to marry my father. They all thought that the arrangement would work out just fine. But a few years after the marriage my mom's apathy towards my half-brother started to show. And so, like what we see in tv, my brother has to pack his things and move out.
I really think that my Kuya Gerry and I were not given enough time to get to know each other that well. When he had to move out of the house, it took years before we crossed path again. He went to live with his biological mother while I have to relocate in the province when my parents started working abroad. The distance plus the indifference my relatives felt towards my half-brother were enough to suppress news about each other . When I had to go back to the city for high school, it was only then that we started seeing each other again. But this time, with his wife and kids.
He is now happily married and already has two kids. When he goes to visit us, he would always carry a galon of ice cream. Maybe by chance he remembered me when I was still a kid, screaming to death when I could not get my cone of dirty ice cream.
Telling this story to you now makes me want to visit him some of these days. Just to check how he and his family is doing. We may have different mothers but still he is my kuya, my brother. And I'd like to know him more.
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