Or so the story goes.
I talked about happy memories last week, bugging five of my blogging heroes until they offered up some of their most cherished experiences. The kicker? The memories they offered weren’t even that special. They were normal little snippets of life that you and I enjoy on a regular basis, the kind of experience most people never spare a second thought for.
And that’s the trick, I guess. You don’t need much — a warm cup of coffee, maybe, and a good friend to share it with — to create a happy memory. My heroes knew that, and I’m starting to understand it now too.
One question, though, remained: what’s one of my happiest memories? And why does it stand out above the rest?
Well: it happened in Mexico.
But this isn’t a story about drunken hostel parties (of which, er, there were many), and nor is it a story about how my dear brother suffered violent food poisoning one morning and still emerged to dance later that day.
It is a story about one of my happiest memories, though. And maybe it’s a not-so subtle plea, too, to take a second look at those who know us best — those brothers, sisters, parents or pets who we probably don’t cherish as much as we should.
I guess, in the end, it’s a story about family.
WHAT HAPPENS IN MEXICO…
My brother and I were never close.
There’s the age gap, for one (four years), and the fact that we had nothing in common for another. I liked classic rock music. He liked rap. I didn’t understand him, and I suspect he didn’t get me either, but the age difference made that pretty easy to ignore. We had our own groups, our own friends, and two years of college passed before my close friends ever discovered that I had an older sibling.
And then we went to Mexico.
I found out, later, that dear brother had watched a movie called The Darjeeling Limited (my second favorite movie of all time, as it turns out!). It tells a story of three brothers — with nothing in common — who slowly come together during a strange and dangerous adventure through India. I think it’s brilliant. My brother thought so too, but maybe for a different reason: it made him realize, as the credits rolled, that he barely knew his own brother.
We hopped a plane to Mexico just a few weeks later.
I’d like to say it wasn’t awkward. I’d love to say that we found a comfortable groove the minute we boarded the plane, but that’d be dishonest: we did okay. We did fine, even, butting heads but still coming to understand, slowly, who the other person was — who we had each become in our disconnected lives.
I found out that he’s addicted to the sun. The man has a sixth sense for sandy shores, meaning we’d have to dump our stuff and go lounge for hours every time he caught wind of a nearby beach.
Me? Not a fan. I was always the pale, chubby kid, terrified of taking off my shirt in public and feeling more than a little subconscious next to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. The heat in Mexico wore me down, though, and one day I gave in — I dove in, more specifically, following my brother’s lead to a nearby beach.
We floated for a few hours, watching the sun slip down towards us, chatting about anything and everything for the first time that I could remember in the two decades I’d known him.
I loved it. I stayed underwater so no one would see my torso, but somehow I felt comfortable — relaxed, even, as the beach emptied out and the sky started to darken. Maybe that’s when I realized it.
Maybe that’s when it clicked: this is my brother.
I felt like I knew him, for the first time, and I felt like maybe we weren’t so different after all. Maybe we had something in common beyond a last name, and maybe we could be friends — let alone siblings – for the first time in our entire lives.
I guess my brother had started thinking about it too.
“You’re different than I expected,” he said, floating beside me.
I smiled. We started talking about expectations, about how we had both approached the trip with some nervousness. Could we get along? Would we kill each other before the plane even landed?
In the water, I knew the answer: we could. And we did. We were brothers, after all, and not as different as either one of us had used to think.
…STAYS WITH YOU FOREVER
I have some pretty wild memories from the trip. We partied hard, suffered some exotic dishes, and did several stupid things that probably aren’t fit for publication (even on a blog!). We had the time of our lives, both of us, and I’ll cherish those memories always, as they’re some of the most exciting and entertaining I own.
My happiest memory from the trip, though? My mind always goes back to the beach.
I remember how warm the water was, and I remember how the ocean had taken on the same immense red as the evening sun. Mainly, though, I remember the conversation. We were just talking. We were connecting, maybe for the first time in our lives, and I think it’s safe to say we left the beach different from how we’d first gone in.
We were brothers. And we’ve been brothers ever since.
BRINGING IT ON HOME
I like having a brother. I feel closer to my family than I’ve ever felt before, and I know that it started that day when my brother and I dove head-first beneath the waves.
We talk, now, on a weekly basis, sharing our mutural triumphs and failures (mostly the latter). We traveled together again a year later, and not a month passes without both of us dreaming and planning for a trip to India sometime in the future. We’re going to take a train, much like the trio in The Darjeeling Limited, but we’re starting with an advantage: we know we’re not so different after all.
I owe all of this to Mexico. In a funny way, though, I know my happiest memory has nothing to do with Mexico. It has everything to do with my brother and me — talking, floating, trying to bridge the gap that had kept us apart for all those years.
That’s a memory I’m proud of. And, just like the happy memories of my five blogging heroes, it’s not all that unique. It’s normal, even. It’s just a conversation with my brother, one I get to have every week of the year, and it’s proof, if nothing else, that the simplest, best things in this world don’t ask for much in return.
So go: make some happy memories. Share a burrito with a buddy (like Ev Bogue!), spend time with your children and wife (like Leo Babauta!), or just take a walk in the breeze (like Francine Jay!).
And maybe, when you’re done, pick up the phone and call your brother/sister/mother/father. We all get busy. Life gets in the way, right? But you have the option, right now, to do something different — to try and look at your friendship with your family in an entirely different light.
They’re like happy memories, after all — normal, regular parts of life that we all experience without a second thought. But what happens when you start thinking? What happens when you take a step back and realize what you’ve had all along?
You start to make your own happiness. You don’t take anything for granted, anymore, and you call your brother or sister to celebrate that fact. You realize that connecting with your family can be one of life’s greatest pleasures, and you realize, more importantly, that it’s something you can do every day in some simple, small way.
Pick up the phone. Send an email. Send a text message. Just connect, in some way, and embrace the happiness that follows.
I had to board a plane to Mexico to figure that out. You, though? You just have to make a phone call.
Happiness doesn’t ask for much.
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4 Comments »
I'm a writer, minimalist, and health dork with three goals in mind: to teach you how to lose weight, move more, and be happier by living a simple, natural life. It works. Like what you read here? Get 3NL delivered straight to your inbox!
Good reminder.
Right now I’m giving more time to my 1 bro who has class IV brain cancer and starts radiation in less than a week. I have many fond memories with him, and hope for many many more.
I hope you have them too.
I wish you and your brother the best of luck in coming months, Karen. Stay strong.
Naw, I’ve just read this and its made me think of the relationship between me and my brother! With a six year age gap, I feel irresponsible for not being a good sis and seeing my lil’ bro more often- I do just live down the road from him afterall! Thanks for the kick up the butt to actually go hang with him. It’s so important and I’ve taken it for granted…
Glad I can help!
I ended up chatting with my brother for about three straight hours, today, and it’s still incredible to me now to see how much closer we’ve become. I can say without a doubt it’s one of the best things that has ever happened in my life.