Hanging from the Banister

I just woke up. It was our second day at the little wooden house in upper New York. It was a bright and sunny day, and my dad had promised me that we were going to check out the woods today. I got up and got dressed, brushed my teeth and woke up Dan. I woke him up ruffly. It is so annoying that I have to wake him up, I thought, why can’t he wake himself up? Dan is my younger brother. He’s two years younger than me, but when I say that, he corrects me. He says that he is exactly 1 year and 11 months younger than me. He has blond hair that is a little puffed up in a spot near the back of his head, once I tried to flatten it for picture day, but that one spot would not go down.
That’s enough about him, back to the story. I stomp into his room, throw off his covers, and yell into his ear, “Time to wake up!” He woke up quickly, changed, brushed his teeth and slid down the banister instead of taking the stairs to get down faster. I looked at the banister. It was made entirely out of wood. My thought drifted to the kid’s spy movie we had watched last night. There was one part when the girl, who was about my age, hung off the banister of the evil villain’s house. Then she jumped to the ground and got away. That would be cool to do, I thought. In fact, it hadn’t even looked that hard to do at all. Maybe I could do it, I thought. No, it would be too dangerous, the saner part of my mind said. If Dan could slide down the banister, then I could hang off the banister and jump down, I thought.
So I clambered over to the other side of the banister where there was a little ledge only my toes could stand on. Then I crouched down, grabbed the bottom of the banister supports with my hands and let my toes slip off the ledge. I hung there for a second, feeling pretty awesome, then looked down. I was really high. I felt like I would break my leg if I tried to jump down. My arms started to strain. My hands were getting sweaty. I felt like I couldn’t hold on any longer. “Mom!” I yelled, “Dad!” But I knew they wouldn’t hear me. No one would hear me. They were both outside. Both! But there were four people who had traveled to the cosy little house on the mountain in upper New York. Me, Dad, Mom, and … Dan. “Lily, what are you doing?” He asked while staring up at me. “Are you trying to fly?” “No!” I shouted. “Go get Mom and Dad. Quick! I’m losing my grip!” And to this day, I still bless those tiny little legs, as he ran as fast as he could to find Mom and Dad. He found them right away, and told them I was in ‘Moral pearl’ (mortal peril). They rushed to find me just as I was about to let go, my tiny 7 year old arms just couldn’t hold on any longer. So Dad grabbed my waist and told me I could let go. I did.
When I got to the ground, I hugged Dan. “You’re the best brother ever.” I said.
The years have come and gone, and I’ve had time to think about the memory from so many years ago. It is a small story, but it is like a lot of others. They are just different by the words that cover their meaning:
Always listen to the good side of your conscience. Don’t let the bad side rule over it.
Another thing has nagged me; how I treated Dan. Even though I treated him like an annoying little gnat, he still ran as fast as he could to find Mom and Dad. I guess I learned that even if your siblings and you are feeling a lot of hatred for each other, they will always be there for you.
Always.

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