Three of us sitting in our living room on the thirty-first of December, watching London through television screens and listening for Big Ben’s chimes to signal the beginning of 2012. All is calm, here, and a little awkward too. We’re siblings and a second later than before we feel it is necessary to hold each other and pat each other on the back, do the well wishing and be impressed – again – at the array of colourful explosions. They are impressive, though. We silently decide not to cross our hands and sing Burn’s Auld Lang Syne and not long after do we decide to sleep. The third of us has been sleeping all night in his bed, occasionally flinching at the sound of cheap anti-climatic fireworks that one neighbour thinks is a good idea to buy.
Babies in prams and arms interlocked, kisses at crossings and drinking coffee with cuddles we share each other’s company in the presence of others. It’s New Year’s Eve so the end of the year but today marks the start of us reigniting of our time together. We laugh together and smile into each other’s eyes reminiscing of our year gone by: the times when we were on our own, playing catch up, nodding, smiling and acting interested. Though I am interested. Every word you speak mesmerises me, you are passionate and I like that. I take you to coffee shops where I have a history and a past of bundlers, I’m not sure whether I took you there because it was convenient or because I wanted to show you off because I am proud of you and I love being on your arm.
You are a bag of contradictions but it is a mix I like. You are unpredictable yet I feel secure. You are a fighter but not a stereotype. It’s a nice mix of masculinity and the ability to care. You get offended when I called you a ‘soft’, but you misunderstand me.