Being the almost-only child

Kiera Quinn

For the first time ever, it would be just me and my parents in our house for months. For as long as I could remember, it had been me, my brother, and my parents. Sure there were the week-long stay-away camps or the sleep-over at someone else’s house, but this time my brother was moving out, heading to college. I suppose it’s quite a bit odder for him — moving to a wholly different state and climate zone— but having to face my parents’ half-empty nest syndrome isn’t pleasant.

Paired with the fact that he was taking on a two-month long internship during the summer in a different city, my time with my brother was coming to a close. Yes, there were summers and winter and spring breaks, but that is only a few weeks amidst a sea of months. Plus, he could be busy during the summers, perhaps taking on internships such as the one he will be taking now, or being with friends.

I would not have an older brother constantly near, as I was used to. I was preparing to be frighteningly close to an only child, with all of my parents’ attentions trained on me. Within a few years, I will be in his shoes, off to college somewhere. Then, my parents’ nest will be truly empty.

Dinners will start to feel barren, and the house quieter. Yes, I get some benefits, such as unlimited computer time or getting a car to drive, but a gear of my four-piece ever-functioning life and family is going missing. Soon, I’ll be driving myself places and will start to be alone quite a bit more. With my brother’s flying off, my father, who has acted as our primary caretaker, would be getting a job.

My brother flying the coop was bound to happen eventually, I suppose, but I feel that everyone dreads and looks forward to that moment. All in all, the biggest shift in my life was rapidly approaching, and I felt far from ready. My brother, however, seems to be a different story.