We all have our stories to tell. Whether you believe it or not, theyre true to the people who tell them. Up until a short while ago, I didnt think anything special had ever happend to me and that my life was purely uneventful. Until my mother opened up to me in a way I sometimes wish she hadn't.
When I was very, very young, I had an imaginary friend, like lots of little kids. Its a way for a young child to have fun and work out an over active imagination, and sometimes cope with boredom. But the kid knows, it isnt real. I on the other hand, have very vivid memories of SEEING my imaginary friend. Up until a short while ago, I believed it was just my own imagination. I do remember now, that his name was Blaine. As a kid, I saw Blaine more or less regularly, but he never spoke to me, and we didnt have adventures or play together. I always just saw him when I was alone. I believed he was real, and I can remember my parents aggiation whenever I would bring Blaine up. They always firmly told me that he wasnt real, and I should stop acknowledging him. I remember my mother becoming very upset on one occasion when I was about 7 yrs old (which is old for a child to still have an imaginary friend they consider real)and my father comforting her and saying something about it being coincidence. When I was 8, I started seeing a counselor,which was a HUGE waste of money. Then, on my ninth birthday, I remember seeing Blaine for the last time. I was just about to fall asleep when the small boy walked into my room, looked at me laying there, smiled, and vanished.
I know what your thinking. Bullshit, right? Why wasnt I scared of Blaine? Why didnt I acknowledge him as a ghost? Well, I knew what ghosts were by the time I was 7 or 8, like most kids. But Blaine wasn't scary, and Blaine had always been there. I had a sense of closeness with him and familialarity.
Then last summer, my mother and I were out to lunch, and we began talking about my childhood. With a little smile, my mother asked me if I remembered having an imaginary friend. I told her I did, I could remember his name, hair color, eye color, exact skin tone, EVERYTHING. My mom gently smiled, put her hand over mine and said Why did you call him Blaine Bethie? I began to feel weird. I dont know, I said. That was just his name. My mom began crying a little and I asked her to please tell me what the hell was going on. She in turn asked me to not think she was crazy. I agreed, and what she told me changed my life forever. I was born premature. That much I knew. What I didnt know, was that I was born WITH A BROTHER who passed away two days after our birth. His name? I think you can guess.
At first, I was scared shitless. But now I know that Blaine was just a little boy who wanted to be with his sister until it got to much for them to handle. As sad as I get when I think about him, I have to admit, I'm glad he saw fit to leave me when he did.