Another Brother

My parents were not wise in choosing hairstyles for their little girls. Though they let Libby's hair grow long, they kept me and Sarah's hair short. And so this started a game of sorts. Libby would convince new acquaintances that we were three brothers. She would explain that as a poor snowboarder who could not afford earmuffs, she grew out her hair for warmth. In this role, she used Sarah and I as props, short-haired kids who easily passed for boys. I did not protest, it didn't occur to me that I could. So there I was, just another brother.