Hockey in the Garage
Adam, my older brother, was my first real friend. For years, we played almost every day together. It all started when I was in Kindergarten and he was in fifth grade. Rachel was in high school at the time so she was too cool to hangout with us.
One particular Christmas, Adam and I were gifted brand new rollerblades. My parents had opened Pandora’s box. Adam taught me how to skate on our uneven and rough driveway. Once I finally felt confident in my skating abilities, there was no stopping us. Our go to activity was playing hockey in the garage with rollerblades on. Sounds insane for kids our age right? It was. Shoving each other into the garage door and the surrounding shelves made it even more risky. We grew accustomed to bruises and sore muscles but we lived for the high that was hockey in the garage.
We were partners in crime. Chaos followed us everywhere we went.
We shattered a light on the ceiling of the garage with a hockey puck. Adam knocked my tooth out with a hockey puck. He broke the garage window with a hockey puck and then proceeded to try and blame it on me. We created all sorts of dents and marks on the garage walls with a hockey puck. For our birthdays, we would buy the other a hockey puck to add another to our collection. Adam took a hockey puck to a Carolina Hurricanes game to get it signed for me. Surely enough he came back with Eric Staal’s signature on it. I found out many years later it was my brother who signed it.
Adam bet me he could throw the basketball into the basketball hoop all the way from the back yard. Only, he actually hit a lamp light on the side of the house. We repeatedly got caught playing soccer in the music room. We played with a small stress ball instead of a real soccer ball, but that still wasn’t allowed, so we did it anyway. Nerf guns in the house also weren’t allowed. So, we brought them inside when we were home alone. It was a race against time as soon as we heard my mom’s car. We took a liking to pillow fights, but with hard throw pillows. Adam never held back. I got clocked in the face a lot, so naturally with time I got better at ducking and predicting his moves. Although I don’t remember fully how it happened, we once caused the electricity in our house to short-circuit. My dad was not happy.
There were calmer moments too. We used to explore the creek in the woods behind my house. We would jump over to the other side to gather all the cool rocks, again not allowed. Driven by our goal of finding gold, we spent a lot of time in the creek. “National Treasure” was our favorite movie, obviously. We watched it over and over again, always just as good as the time before. Rainy days became “National Treasure” days. We often ate snacks while watching – every little kid’s dream. Adam made me his special grilled cheese with onions. Years later, I learned how to cook it myself.
Looking back, I’ve realized just how much Adam contributed to my childhood and influenced even greater life lessons. He taught me how to have fun, even if it was in the most absurd ways. He taught me how to get back up after falling down, literally. And he taught me how to fight back, to be strong and determined. Constantly trying to keep up and chase after my brother nurtured an unrelenting spirit that has made me who I am today.
