There's Manong Ralph and Sean. I've written about them in this post. They're my two other brothers, the very people I grew up with. I've fought with them a lot of times, especially when we were young--and those were pretty bloody fights, comparable to the Gladiator battle scenes.
Manong would get mad at me for using his things, and I'd get mad at him for using my things. With Sean, it was different. A most wonderful brother that I am, I'd put my nose close to his ears, mumble noisy sounds, and, like a tiger catching his prey, he'd slap me, and I'd slap him, and I'd laugh while we slap each other. Then I'd rush to my room, lock the door, and hear him crying outside. Sweet.
Then there's my mother. She never fails to remind us to brush our teeth every night (I guess dentists always do that to their children), which is her way of showing us her care. And then there's my father. As soon as my mother says, "Brush your teeth," he'd immediately add: "And drink your milk and vitamins." Whenever I'd call home and ask for prayers, Tatay would always say, "Lance, you don't need to tell us that. The moment we [he and Nanay] wake up in the morning and before we sleep at night, we always ask the Lord to bless you [Manong, I and Sean] wherever you may be."
My parents are very happy people. It's not a wonder then why the entire family is.