From Another Mother Anonymous

I have two brothers. They’ve always been everything I’ve ever hoped to become. From the beginning of my life, they enchanted me. I was not only drawn to them because they bore a strong resemblance to me, but because everyone else was fascinated by them too. My parents hail them as brilliant and charismatic heralds of revolution. They tower above everyone else in my family, and they have booming voices and large mouths out of which only come perspective-altering insights and witty quips. They’re sources of comedic inspiration, and their laughs carry down city blocks and into our mouths, as we tend to laugh equally as hard. Their slapstick stylings doubled me over when I was 3 and still do. I fear that my efforts to do them justice in an essay like this would only inspire scrutiny and hysterical chortling on their part; for all their virtues, they probably haven’t ever conceived that I might compliment them in any shape or form. Nonetheless, they’ve had such an impact on the kind of person I strive to be that it would be unjust not to give credit where credit is due.

Their names are Eduardo and Eric.

Eddy arrived at the age of 12 from Mexico City. He spoke no English, had ADHD, and moved to a racially insensitive neighborhood. He...