Famliy+Memoir-+MiaB

Family Memoir By: Mia Bufalino Sometimes, relationships aren’t always as perfect as you wish they were. I mean, you can’t have a perfect family. You also can’t just take tape or glue and mend them back together when you have done something to tear it apart. But I have learned something, from the past 12 years living with my brother, and that is that if you are nice to someone, and you expect nothing in return, they will be nice to you. It’s as simple as that.

When we were younger, my brother was two, and I was five, we were playing in my junk infested playroom. It had cars, and stuffed animals, and barbies, and just about every toy that a young child would dream of having. I immediately rushed over and started playing with my toys. My brother how ever was no were to be found. I looked around the whole playroom over and over trying to find my curious two-year-old brother. I then remembered that we had an enormous, black dresser that lined the walls. For a five-year-old little girl, this dresser was considered the biggest thing in the world (which it wasn’t). I looked up into the shadowy dressers big black figure, when all of a sudden, I saw my brother. Somehow he had climbed up onto the dresser and was now on his way to the top. I saw that this dresser wasn’t very stable, so it began to wobble. All of a sudden, it tipped over, brother and all. I was petrified. I rushed over to the dresser and somehow lifted it off of him. He had a very deep cut on his face. A little girl like me had never seen something like that before. I yelled for my mom and grandma as loud as my little voice could yell. They sped up to the playroom, and got Eric in the car. Then, just like that, we were gone.

I wasn’t old enough to stay home alone, so I had no choice but to come. Once we got to the cold, dark, hospital, they immediately rushed Eric into the emergency room. I wanted to wait outside because they told me my brother had to get stitches. Outside in the hallway, I could hear the sharp piercing scream of my brother getting stitches right above his nose. I have to admit, I was scared. I probably sat out there for hours staring into the window, watching my brothers tears. I kept trying to get a hold of my dad, but he wouldn’t answer my calls. I would come in and ask my mom probably about every 20 minutes and say, “When is Eric going to get better?” After Eric was done, the doctor came out and told me,

“If you hadn’t done what I you did, the conditions would be much worse, since Eric is only a little baby.” “Really?” I was very proud of myself, and it made me feel good knowing that I saved my brother from something that could have been possibly fatal. I learned a lesson that day, which is that saving something small is just as good as saving the world. They are very equal.