“I have to pee. No one take anything.” My oldest brother, Ben, got out of the big, comfortable chair in front of the TV, put the remote precariously down, and then slowly stalked out of the room.
My ten year-old self watched with glee from my perch on the couch as Sam, the middle child, slipped quietly from the hard wooden rocking chair in the back of the room and plopped down on Ben’s.  He grabbed the TV remote and changed the channel.  The laughter from Seinfeld shifted abruptly to the quiet musings of Pawn Stars.  Down the hall, a door squeaked open.  Here it comes. Get ready! I thought. 
“Are you kidding me, Sam? I told you not to take anything. Get up.” Ben said angrily between clenched teeth.  Sam turned his head to look at him, met his gaze for a second, and then looked back at the TV.  He didn’t get up.  “Get out of my seat,” Ben repeated, louder this time.  When Sam didn’t move, Ben grabbed his arm and pulled.  Sam’s forehead sailed towards the wood floor, landing with a smack.  Ben moved triumphantly onto the seat, resting his feet on Sam’s shuddering back.
Sam pushed Ben’s feet off of his back. “F*** YOU!” he screamed with a cherry red face, throwing himself onto the chair.  The wrestling lasted for another minute.  Finally, Sam admitted defeat, receding back to the wooden chair with a burning red face. 
A few awkward minutes passed, filled with silence broken only by two sets of heavy breathing.  Finally; “Where’s the remote?”
“What’re you talking about?” Sam asked, eyes never leaving the TV.
“Are you serious?! You took the f***ing remote! Give it back!” Ben belted.  He rose out of the seat, crossed the room, and picked up the heavy, metal guitar sitting in the corner.  With a swift jab to the stomach, Sam was on the floor, the remote clutched in one hand.  A few hits to the back released the remote.
“Stop, Ben!” I yelled in my high pitched pre teen voice.
“Shut up!  He deserves it!” Ben shouted at me, a snarl distorting his face.
I surveyed the scene with terror: Sam sobbing loudly on the floor, Ben seething in the chair, George Castanza being annoying on the TV.  A pleasant afternoon with my brothers had turned sour in a series of five minutes. 
Every time something like that used to happen, I would think to myself, Well, that’s it.  We’re never going to talk to each other again.  That’s how the brotherhood dies. Yet somehow, later that night at the dinner table, Sam was laughing at Ben’s jokes.  Such is the way with siblings. 
More and more, however, I find that my relationship with my brothers is unique in many ways.  As we’ve grown older, we’ve realized that we have a connection that none of us will ever have with anyone else, and we might as well utilize that.  I don’t treat them like my friends; I don’t share crazy stories or go to parties or talk about girls with them.  Yet I don’t hate them.  We have a special relationship.  They’re my brothers. 
Neither Ben and Sam live at home anymore; they are both in college.  Their absence has made me notice even more the impression that they left and still leave on my life, and how I am constantly being shaped by them as a person.  Almost every aspect of my life is the way it is because of something that Ben or Sam passed along to me.  Being the youngest child definitely has its benefits; I never had to search too hard for things that I’m good at or enjoy, because my brothers had already found most of them for me.  Each of them brings a completely different perspective to my life.
Ben hates people, yet somehow is always surrounded by friends. He finished college last year, and is dedicated his life so far to finding a career in music that can support a comfortable lifestyle.  He plays and listens all the time, going to concerts every week.  I would guess that three fourths of the music I listen to was introduced to me by him.  Sometimes if we are both excited about something new that a band is doing, we’ll talk about it for hours.  Last summer, Ben moved from Boston to live in Bethesda, Maryland with his girlfriend.   In August, Ben, his girlfriend Jess, and I saw Tedeschi Trucks Band, one of our favorite bands, at an outside venue in the middle of a great green field. It was a beautiful, warm summer night, fireflies and purple sunset and everything.
The last chord rang out into the clear, dark night sky.  “Thank you guys so much! See ya next time!” Susan Tedeschi shouted into the microphone, her voice on top of a layer of cheering.  The crowd packed against me began to disperse, and Ben, Jess, and I followed the stampede across the field.
I thought back to the show that I had just witnessed, the eleven person blue band blasting through a two and a half hour set.  “Wow,” I whispered to myself.
Suddenly, we reached a split in the road, and it came time to say goodbyes. “Well, that was awesome,” Ben said.  “I’ll see you in a couple months, I guess.”
“Yeah, thanks for coming with me.  Seeya then,” I replied.  We embraced for a second, and I turned and started walking away.
“Let me know when you get home,” he called after me.
“Will do!” I called after him, turning my head but not meeting his eyes, because mine were starting to swell up with tears.  Why am I crying? I thought.  That was one of the best nights of my life.  HAPPY NOT SAD. HAPPY NOT SAD. HAPPY NOT SAD.  I walked down the dark street, lined with plush maple trees, tears flowing down my cheeks.  They didn’t stop until I had sat alone in my car for ten minutes.  I guess that something about the perfection of the night was just too much for me to handle at the moment. 
Unlike Ben, Sam seems to get along with everyone, yet only has a few very close friends.  He’s a sophomore in college, and is the smartest person I know.  He is the one that I would have to live up to, if I felt the need to live up to anyone.  Valedictorian, 2350 SAT score and everything.  He’s who I text if I need help with homework, or if I have questions about college.   Sam and I have similar interests: sports, friends, music, and similar strengths: school, music, etc.  Yet we also have less in common than Ben and I, in some ways.  Sam and I get on each other’s nerves more than Ben and I do.  It’s harder for us to be completely civil to each other for extended periods of time.  It always works out, though.
I remember the day Sam left to college for his freshman year, a year and a half ago.  My parents and I were traveling to Vassar with him to see him off.  We were taking two cars, and I was riding with my dad.  It was a hot August morning, blue sky and sweltering, big sun.  Sam walked in circles around our house, taking in the surroundings for a last time before going to live somewhere else for the first time in his life.  I sat down with him on the hood of my dad’s car.
“So. How are you feeling?” I asked
“Fine.” Sam said, not giving anything away.
Well, that’s that, I guess.  I slipped into my dad’s front seat and we pulled out of the driveway.  All the sudden, there were tears running down my cheek.  My dad heard sniffling and looked over. “Are you actually crying?” he prodded. 
“Yeah! What the hell! I’m honestly not even sad!” I insisted, truthfully, between sobs. 
“Well, you can’t control emotions, that’s why they’re emotions,” my dad said matter-of-factly. 
“Thanks, Dad,” I said with all the sarcasm I could muster.  The crying stopped after a little while, and everything was back to normal.
Those are the only two times I remember crying since I was kid, definitely the only times in the last few years.
After Sam left, my house felt quiet and empty.  I didn’t know what to do with myself for the first few weeks.  Of course, now I love being the only kid in my house, and having either brother home for more than a week at a time can be incredibly frustrating.  That’s how our relationship has changed, though.  We have grown closer now that we aren’t living with each other; it’s easier for us to get along.  It’s fairly rare these days that I get to spend time with both Ben and Sam together.  One night, the last time they were both at home, we were all watching TV together.
“So, how’s school been?” Ben inquired, sitting comfortably in the big brown chair in front of the TV.
“It’s good!  I mean, it’s still school, but it’s good,” I responded. 
“You two should come down and visit Jess and I sometime,” he continued.  “We have an extra bedroom and everything.”
“Yeah definitely,” I said.  “I’ll drive down some long weekend and spend a few days there.”
“Could you go back to Pawn Stars?” Sam asked nonchalantly. 
“Sure,” Ben replied, and changed the channel without even a bat of his eye.  On the couch, I smiled to myself.