O brother, where art thou?

my brother, Regan Ellis Johnson, was born on June 4th, 1985. His nick name, when he was young, was Reegie-Beegie. Although my mom said that we were fast friends, I don't actually have any memories of him until I was about four or five years old, when we used to take a bath, get dressed in our polyester one-piece pajamas (with feet!) and climb into his bed, where I would read stories to him before bed. Since then, Regan has always been my best friend.

When I was younger, I always thought that everything came easily to my brother. In any family, kids quickly get categorized against their siblings -- in my family, I was always the 'smart' one and Regan was the 'creative' one. I was sensitive and he was outgoing. I was clean and he was a mess of plates and lego and micro-machines. I used to be really jealous of my brohter sometimes, because it seemed that the entire world would bend over backwards for his sandy blond hair and his easy smile. Regan was always the one who would be racing ahead to ride his bike over the jumps in the abandoned lot by our house in Calgary, while I ran after him yelling, "but it's not safe! What if we get caught? What if someone owns it? What if they come back and yell at us?" Regan was the one who would ride all of the roller-coasters when he was six years old, while I sat on the bench near the entrance, tugging the straps to my sundress, scared that someone would want to abduct me. Regan was the one who liked to bring the hose into the house when we were having a water fight, who would pull the heads off of my barbies and paint their faces blue and who used all of the good chairs and sheets when we were having fort-building competitions.

He was always my closest ally while we were growing up, though. We used to play a game for HOURS that we called "shop", where he would set up all of his toys for 'sale' and I would set up all of my toys for 'sale', and we would run back and forth with our monopoly money, trying to be shrewed consumers. We would put on "Jump" by Kris Kross and rollerblade in circles around our unfinished basement. When we were upset with our parents, we would hide out on his bunk bed, playing board games and talking about things we were scared of. In high school we did a musical theatre program together and he even ended up dating one of my best friends. Now, even though we are on opposite sides of the country, we stay in touch ... and I really miss him. No one has ever been able to make me laugh like my brother could - sometimes we have to pull over to the side of the road when we're driving because neither of us can breathe from laughing so hard at one of our stupid inside jokes.

I've learned that even though he has a nicer nose than I do and was always better at sports, life was never easier for Regan. He has struggled more at school and had a hard time staying with a close group of friends. I have realized that in most ways, we balance each other and I KNOW that in all ways, we need each other. He is always the first one to say "what a prick" when I get broken up with and the first one to be happy for me when I fall in love. I patiently edit his essays, and try to listen when I know that things aren't going his way.

I have a lot of things to be thankful for, but I don't know what life would be like without my brother. So much of who I am is tied up in who we are and I am grateful every day that there is someone in the world who is always going to know and understand me in the way that I need to be understood. I don't know what this post means ... just random, I didn't choose 'im, but I really couldn't have asked for a better person to be my brother.