It could have been any of us, but it happened to be me. I received a brief 18-months of undivided attention and love as the only child, before three more appeared. The second was a severe blow. No doubt, learning the need to share was important, but I had tasted the life of an only child.
Then came years of requests to look after the siblings（兄弟姐妹）, being urged that, You should be setting a better example, “Again and again the others got away with doing wrong but I didn't. We each played our roles; the second one who later skipped school to meet boys; the ever so attractive third, the boy who could do no wrong; and finally the surprise appearance of the fourth, seemed certain to be spoiled even now. So that left me: the reasonable, quiet one who got the grades, did the housework and became a chameleon（变色龙）—skilled at reading a situation and being what was needed.
Then eventually came the chance to be the first to leave and experience life on the outside, not defined（定义）as the eldest. The moment I had waited for. But now, many years later, being the eldest matters again. It's down to me; it seems, to take the lead in caring for our parents, AH the time I was made to learn about sharing; however, when it comes to responsibility, it no longer seems to apply. The others are too busy, too far away, or too unconcerned. So dutifully I travel many times across the country for hours to provide care and support. Requests to my siblings to help out more fall on deaf ears. To me, the dutiful first born, it feels like the right and only thing to do; to be there for our parents as they were for us. Sadly, that feeling isn't shared by the second, third or fourth.
