Handstands and Mystery Cans

"Higher! Higher!" Norah squealed with delight as her cousin pushed her toward the sunlight trickling through the clouds.

Andrew and I reclined next to his stone fire pit, enjoying the fresh air and the sound of tiny giggles. "Thanks for coming down here, sis. I know a four-hour drive isn't easy with two kids."

"It wasn't too bad, actually. The baby slept most of the way. Our SUV came preset with soothing sounds– knocks him right out."

"That's good."

I chuckled. "Yeah. Could've been way worse. Could've shoved four kids in the back of a beat-up sedan with no AC and broken crank windows."

Andrew's face lit up. "We couldn't get ten feet from the driveway before someone started complaining. Man, those were the days."

"For you, maybe! You always got the window seat while my skinny butt got stuck in the middle!"

"Not my fault you were built like a noodle." Andrew shrugged, his devious eyes searching for a reaction.

"Well, you are what you eat, right?" I played along, refusing to give him the satisfaction of irking me. "I still don't know how I stayed so thin. You'd think eating spaghetti six times a week would've fattened me up."

Andrew's lively grin faltered, twitching slightly downward before resuming its wide spread. Most people would have missed it, but not me. "You okay?"

He let out a breathy half-laugh, releasing the facade and relaxing into a sad smile. "Yeah. Just thinking. Man, I was so sick of spaghetti."

"Really? You always made a big deal about how much you loved it."

"Let's put it this way. I haven't eaten spaghetti since I moved out... but I knew it was all we had. Well, that and the mystery cans."

It took me a moment to process. "Oh! I totally forgot about those! Ugh, they were usually gross kidney beans or creamed corn– except for that one time we got Beefaroni. Remember that?"

Andrew let out a full belly-laugh. "You were so excited! But seriously though, how hard is it to keep the labels on canned food?"

"Better yet, who in their right mind would donate Beefaroni? Food banks are for the cheap fifty-cent cans, not the good stuff."

"Must've been some higher-level rich people, right there." Andrew stretched his arms and folded them behind his head.

"Yeah, who can afford to just give away a three-dollar can of deliciousness?" I jested. "Come to think of it, I guess we can."

"I guess we can," he agreed. "You with your fancy new wheels, me with my fancy in-ground pool. Our kids will never have to grow up with mystery can dinners."

"Got that right. Hey, you remember that little turtle sandbox mom picked up on the side of the road?"

"Don't you mean our little turtle pool? How could I forget! Pretty sure we would've died from heatstroke if it wasn't for that thing."

"Don't be dramatic, it wasn't that hot." I rolled my eyes.

"Are you kidding me? Our house had no air. You don't remember sleeping in the hallway that whole summer?"

"Well yeah, but that's because we were playing camp-out."

Andrew shook his head. "It was too hot in our bedrooms and your fan broke. We slept in the hall so that the one fan would hit all of us. Plus the floor was concrete so it was much cooler than our matresses."

I scrunched my forehead. "I guess I never thought about it..."

"Well, we tried to make it as fun as possible. You and Mel were pretty young. Nicole probably remembers, though."

I fought the truth as the blurry image of my childhood sharpened. "Was it really that bad?"

Andrew sighed. "It wasn't good... but mom and dad did what they could. We made it work."

'I mean, I know we struggled... but doesn't everyone? Come on. We had a house, even if I had to share my room with Nicole and Mel. We had clothes. Who cares if they were hand-me-downs? We had food. Didn't matter if it came from a grocery store or a food bank." I felt my ears reddening. "We were way better off than a lot of people."

"Listen, I didn't mean to upset you. I thought you would've realized all this by now. Besides, it's not like we lived like that forever. Dad got that tech job when you were in middle school, and things got a lot better."

"I'm not upset," I lied. "I think I'm just trying to separate this rosy, painted version of my past from reality. I never saw myself as... poor." The last word caught in my throat and left a sour taste on my tongue.

"Everything you remember is still true, even if it is a slightly watered-down version. I used to love our camp-outs. I bet other kids your age never got to stay up all night telling spooky stories in their hallway. Who cares that those camp-outs only happened because of a broken fan?"

I rolled my eyes again, but allowed my corners of my mouth to inch upward. "You're right. We had a blast in that turtle pool, too."

"Exactly. Maybe we couldn't afford a second car, but did you love our walks as much as I did?"

"Oh, man! Mom used to walk us to that park with the metal slide that burned us every time we went down– and we still slid down it a million times!" Andrew and I cackled, the sound reverberating through the trees.

"Pretty sure I still have third-degree burns on my butt from that one."

"Same." I paused, allowing my laughter to ease into a resting smile. I reached over and nudged Andrew's arm. "Thanks. Not just for making me feel better... but for, I don't know– protecting me, I guess? It must've been hard knowing the truth and still putting on a happy face for us."

"Eh, what are big brothers for?" He shoved my hand away, a playful grin lining his face. He sighed, content, before nuzzling deeper into his lounge chair and shutting his eyes

The sun escaped its cloudy prison, seeping its warmth throughout my body. I watched as Norah jumped off the swing and chased Bella across the yard, their cheerful squeals piercing into my memories.

Climbing trees. Exploring the woods. Kicking a flat soccer ball against the neighbor's chain-link fence. Practicing handstands in the back yard. Gathering the courage to leap from the roof of the old shed. Countless scenes from our youth flooded my mind, each brightened with visions of my own pure and innocent joy– and of my big brother beside me.

"Hey, Andy?" He raised his brow and glanced over. "We had a really happy childhood, didn't we."

He followed my line of sight, his eyes locking onto the giggly game of tag. A small smile crept across his lips. "Yeah, we really did."