We've all heard about the Butterfly Effect. It's the theory that if you were to travel back in time and change some minute detail in the timeline, it could change the whole world. But consider this idea in terms of our present timeline.
Today I went for lunch with my younger brother and his girlfriend. He asked me if I remembered the time that he sang The Little Drummer Boy when he was younger. Honestly I had no idea what he was talking about. He was the youngest of my three siblings with ten years separating him from my oldest brother and six years separating the two of us.
Apparently the question was asked because my brother explained to his girlfriend that the reason he never sings is because of the time he sang the Little Drummer Boy. The story goes that he had his Walkman on (this detail totally dates the events) and he was singing along to the music. He must have been really little, although he doesn't remember his exact age. So, while he was singing the Little Drummer Boy, my older brother and I saw him and started laughing. My guess is that we were laughing because it must have looked funny for a little boy to be sitting by himself singing the Little Drummer Boy and not because he sounded heinous, but this little incident that I don't even remember is the reason that for the rest of his life, my younger brother never sang.
It made me sad because as a child myself, how was I to know that would be so traumatizing? What if that had not happened? Maybe he would be on Broadway or singing in a rock band. Maybe he has an awesome voice and could have been an opera star. The world and I will never know.
I just find it so interesting how we can influence people in ways that we don't even realize. By laughing, or not, by small words and gestures...I never really considered it because it seems so self-centered and vain, but we can really affect the people around us.
So I thought about how this may have happened for me and I remember what my older brother did for me and may not even know it.
When I was eleven and he was fourteen, he had a friend name James who was eighteen that had an uncle in our neighborhood. James took an interest in me that I, as a naive child, didn't know was inappropriate. He asked me to go with him to the local amusement park and I agreed. I thought it was awesome to get to go somewhere without my parents and not have to pay for it. So we went and he took me on some scary rides that I was too young for and cried. When we got back to my house, my older brother was angry. He asked why I was back home so late and told me my mom would be really mad, and as my mother was a physically abusive psychopath, I was deathly afraid of what would happen. James still wanted to hang out with me after the park and tried to get me to ride around with him on his bike, but out of fear of my mother, I refused. He was angry, but I didn't care because I didn't want the crap beaten out of me.
It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized what was happening. James was a pedophile and he was trying to groom me. I was eleven, and he was eighteen, but he wanted to take me on dates. He made inappropriate comments about my body, but I didn't know what those words meant at the time, so it didn't make me uncomfortable. He was using his friendship with my brother to get to me. How much do a 14 year old and an 18 year old have in common anyway? How could an 18 year old have an interest in an 11 year old girl?
But the small act of my brother saying that I was in trouble with my mom stopped whatever was happening and what could have happened if I kept hanging out with James. It was a lie, of course. My mom had no idea I went out with an 18 year old guy and cried on the Zipper, then refused to ride the handlebars of his bike. I wonder if my brother even remembers what he did to protect me...I'm guessing he doesn't, but that is my butterfly story. Because as tough as my life is, with my past of physical and emotional abuse, or my present of my chronic illness, the pain of being the victim of a pedophile is unimaginable.
It's crazy to think of the different paths our lives may have taken, but for one small butterfly.
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