When you are between two fires, and when they are both in you, making the right choice in terms of feelings means fighting between anxiety and confusion. And when you are awfully sensitive and unable to feel real anger, you keep it inside until spitting all out in a random moment. That’s what my mom fights for years, thinking about the relationship with her big brother.

She was so tied to him that when my granfather gave him a leathering, she clung to his arm, begging him to stop, even though she knew there was a good reason. Sometimes she was lying, taking the faults of her brother.

She continually tried to conquer him, to please him, to show him that even though she was younger, she could do the same things he did. Like when she joined an “expedition” organized by a kind of scout group of the time who wanted to honor Tito. After a few hours, when the group leader realized that the path was not as easy as it looked, he asked to my mother if she wanted to continue, as she was the youngest. Although half of the children gave up after a couple of hours, she continued walking alongside her brother. Less than halfway through, the group had already lost, and instead taking eight hours, they arrived at their destination after almost a day.

A few years ago, my mom and her brother made a path even more difficult and the consequences were devastating for their brotherhood. Nobody is perfect and this would not even be the first time that the myth of someone’s childhood is debunked. I hope that one dayshe will get over it.