My Brother Tristan

May 8, 2010
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It is Tristan’s birthday. He’s four today, a whole two years younger than me. We went to the beach. Tristan got mad because he couldn’t get ice cream so he ran down to the water without me or mum or daddy. He is going to be in big trouble, even if he is the birthday boy. Maybe I’ll get his presents instead.

Mum then went down to the water to find Tristan and daddy stays with me. We build castles but daddy isn’t thinking and knocks mine over. Then he gets up and runs down to the lifeguard tower, giving me his “you stay here or you will be in big trouble missy” speech. I promise to stay. Inside though I think that just because its Tristan’s birthday doesn’t mean I should get forgotten.

Mum and daddy take forever to get back. I color almost all of my coloring book, even though I am taking my time and coloring inside the lines. Just like Auntie Lisa showed me. Tristan can’t color inside the lines yet.

When they get back, mum is crying and daddy is all frowny. Tristan isn’t with them. Maybe Ariel came and took him to her undersea palace. That wouldn’t be fair though ‘cause he doesn’t even like mermaids and I do.

I asked mum where Tristan went. She doesn’t answer, just cries harder. Mums shouldn’t cry though. Only kids can cry. Daddy says that Tristan is dead, but that is silly. Old people die, like Grandma or weird Uncle Jack, not kids who haven’t even done pre-school. I tell daddy this and he sort of smiles, like he wants to laugh. I ask mum again and she answers. She said that he’s with God, in Heaven. I told her that that made more sense. Daddy laughed but in wasn’t a very nice laugh. Sort of like the when you say the wrong answer in class and everyone else laughs at you, except for Miss Kelly.

We went home and there were more crying adults. I thought this was silly too. After all, God is nice right? So it’s good that Tristan is with him. I bet he gets ice cream and cake and presents everyday.

I went to my room because it was boring downstairs. I wanted to talk to someone, but there was no one to talk to. I needed Tristan. I decided that maybe God wasn’t so nice. After all, I only got to play with Tristan for four years. God should share him, or at least ask before he takes him away. Even I know that and I’m still little.

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