The Older One

The older one. (the older one)

And nobody asked if you wanted it —

you were about eleven doing the work of somebody's parent.

And I got to be a kid in there

because you decided that I would.

In some houses the eldest is a rank, not a child.

Nobody hands it over. Nobody explains it.

And the ones underneath grow up thinking they were lucky,

which is the entire point of the arrangement —

you were not spoiled. You were shielded,

and somebody your own size did the shielding.

There is always one who is fine. Ask any family.

And the one who is fine is standing on somebody,

and the somebody is usually four years older

and has never once brought it up,

and would be embarrassed to hear it said out loud,

which is exactly why it has to be said out loud.

The correct response to this is not a speech.

A speech is just another thing for you to clear up afterwards,

and clearing up is the job I'm trying to take off you.

So: the difficult calls are mine now. All of them.

No discussion, no thank you required.

Sit down. You're off.

The older one. (the older one)

You can stop now. Properly.

There's nobody left in this family you have to stand in front of.

I'm the one who's here now,

and I'm forty-something, and I've got it.

Go and have your own life. You've earned about three.