Reverting to Childhood

I spent last night in the thick atmosphere of farts and laughter.

That’s usually the case when I visit home at the same time as my two older brothers. Dad and I will prop ourselves up at the table and throw down a healthy challenge for a game of Five Hundred, and they instantly answer the call with fangs out, ready to kill. It starts out as a respectable game between adults and inevitably spirals downward into a vicious competition and a good, healthy dose of bathroom humor.

I love those moments gathered around the table. I have brief glimpses back into my childhood as I’m caught up in laughter with the people who know how to make me smile most easily. Sometimes I look beside me and see my 31-year-old brother morph into his 15-year-old self. We all follow suit over the course of the evening and before we know it, we’re all back in our childhoods, giggling, fighting, and doing our best to annoy each other. Usually about halfway into the game, my brothers begin to communicate with each other with flatulence. Though dad and I are always grossed out, we are also always very, very amused.

Dad heads the table. Never a true adult himself, he easily keeps up with us while still managing to keep his eye on the game and serve a good helping of whoop-ass. Luckily, I’m always on his team.

Though we’re all grown and out of the house now, we never fail to raid mom and dad’s refrigerator before we go. It always feels like we’re getting away with something, though mom knows very well that we’ll pillage everything we possibly can before we depart and cooks much more than she needs to just for the occasion.

Sometimes when I make the long journey back home and open the door to my apartment, I feel so incredibly empty knowing I couldn’t bring my family with me. But I know that if I did we would all drive each other batty and go our separate ways after only a few short days. After all, when we were all forced to live together, there were epic battles involving swords, Windex, kitchen knives, and fists. Everything was a weapon, and every day there was a new duel to be had.

Looking back, I’m so glad we survived those battles because I can look back on them fondly, knowing they brought us closer together in the end. And though my apartment feels empty without their immature jokes and laughter, I can always look forward to the next time I will be huddled around mom and dad’s table with them.

…alternating between holding my nose, and gasping for air from the laughter. ♣