Number Three of Three


Being the youngest of three children
had its perks and pitfalls.

I never had to be the first to do anything—
to walk, to talk, to ride a bike, to start
school, to succeed, to fail—so on and so forth.

It was comforting and secure to trail behind
two older siblings who knew the ropes,
even when they chose to hang me out to dry,
rather than share their wisdom.

It was nice to bask in the glow of their
accomplishments, although on occasion
I had to live down the reputation they had
already established, particularly in school.

My sister was a discriminating learner.
If she liked the teacher and/or the subject,
she put her best foot forward.

With his quirky sense of humor and smarts,
my brother cruised through academia
without breaking a serious sweat.

I was the classic overachiever who piled on
the courses and was determined to get an “A”
even if I disliked the subject and/or the teacher.
In other words…’Miss Goody Two Shoes’.

More than once I walked into a classroom
where the teacher’s first words were, “Are you
so and so’s sibling?”

Or worse yet, “Not another (insert last name)
in my class!”

While the move out-of-state after my
sophomore year in high school seemed
an injustice at the time, in reality it was
a blessing in disguise.

The symbiotic sibling interplay was disrupted.
For the first time, I had a perfectly clean slate.

Inspired by Daily Prompt – Symbiosis

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