My mother had a handful of children. A variety of ages, shapes, colors, fathers, genders etc. A lively bunch, troubled with eccentric tendencies. I, well, I am the youngest by a long shot. More than an after thought. Much much more than a mistake. A miracle they called me. Still do. My mother still introduces me to people as her miracle child, miracle baby. As well as with the eldest child. Jason. Jason Jay. JJ. Jason Jay Orris. JJO. The O.
Jason turned 16 exactly one day before I was born. He drove my laboring mother to the hospital. This makes us both Gemini. Gemini bookends, as we are commonly known.
It is true that no one adores me like JJ. The man with many a moniker. I hear stories and see pictures of my babyhood. Jason was always with his miracle baby sister. A long history of many a nap together. Due to age difference, JJ and I were unfortunately far far apart for some time. He was this figure that I had phantom memories with, seeing as he did not live at home and was enjoying in his wild 20's. Regardless of our separation, the proverbial man-child always read my mind, kissed and hugged and carried me, even when puberty scared away my father and many other men from my life.
On the occasions that one is loved, one is loved for many different reasons, by different people. Some reasons are less than desirable. I was/am loved loved loved for filling the mind numbingly painful gap in my parents lives, and Jason, and Ali. My birth ended a certain grief that actually never ended, and will likely be passed my children and my children's children. Replacement. Replacement baby. But it worked, is the thing. I know that just breathing and blinking and not dying made my family happy again.
JJ is the only person who loved his little sister. little little sister. Replacement was not in his vernacular for me. Love is love, and whatever you get handed is to be considered sacred, but Jason loves a special kind of love.