I do find the sibling connection endlessly fascinating, as I do

There are few bonds in this world as ancient, as tender, and as tumultuous as that between siblings. When Jandy Nelson observed, “I do find the sibling connection endlessly fascinating, as I do all family dynamics. I like how siblings seem to create their own parentless mini-civilization within a family, one that has its own laws, myths, language, humor, its own loyalties and treacheries,” she spoke with the insight of one who has peered into the hidden kingdom of childhood — that secret world where brothers and sisters reign as both allies and adversaries, shaping one another long before the world beyond their home ever touches them. In her words lies both poetry and truth: for the bond of siblings is the first society we ever belong to, and its lessons — of loyalty, rivalry, love, and forgiveness — echo through the rest of our lives.

The origin of this reflection can be found in the oldest stories humanity has ever told. From Cain and Abel to Romulus and Remus, from Joseph and his brothers to Moses and Aaron, the saga of siblings runs like a current through the veins of human myth. Nelson’s observation that siblings form a “mini-civilization” is no metaphor — it is the very foundation of our nature. For before there were nations, before there were kings, there were families; and within those families, brothers and sisters established their own secret order. They spoke a language no parent could fully understand, forged alliances, waged rebellions, and created traditions that lasted lifetimes. It is within this small and sacred chaos that we first learn to share, to fight, to forgive — and to see ourselves reflected, not in mirrors, but in another living soul.

Siblings, Nelson suggests, live under the same roof yet inhabit a realm of their own. It is a parentless kingdom, not because parents are absent, but because their authority fades when children gather together in their own orbit. There, within their games and quarrels, they form a microcosm of society — a place governed by the rough laws of fairness and imagination. There are the loyal ones who protect, the tricksters who test, the storytellers who weave their myths. They invent words known only to them, jokes that make no sense to outsiders, and legends of moments that will become part of family lore. In their small kingdom, they rehearse for the wider world, learning both tenderness and betrayal, both hierarchy and rebellion — all under the ancient banner of shared blood.

History offers countless glimpses of this mysterious bond. Consider Wilbur and Orville Wright, two brothers united not only by blood but by vision. From a modest bicycle shop, they dreamt together of conquering the skies. Their collaboration was not without argument — they quarreled fiercely, as siblings do — but their unity of purpose overcame all friction. Together, they built the first airplane and forever changed the destiny of humankind. Their sibling connection became not a rivalry but a harmony of genius, proving that when love outweighs ego, the bonds of brotherhood can lift not just two men, but all of humanity, into the heavens.

Yet the sibling bond, as Nelson acknowledges, holds not only loyalties but treacheries. In the story of Joseph and his brothers, we see how jealousy can darken love, how the same closeness that nurtures understanding can also breed envy. But even there, in the end, forgiveness triumphs. For what Nelson calls a “mini-civilization” is also a training ground of mercy — where one learns, through pain and reconciliation, that love need not be perfect to be enduring. Such is the paradox of siblings: they are both our first enemies and our truest companions. They wound us, but they are also the first to stand by us when the world turns cold.

To study this family dynamic, as Nelson does, is to understand the architecture of the heart. The sibling bond is not a mere accident of birth — it is one of life’s deepest teachers. Through it, we discover that connection cannot exist without conflict, that affection must survive disappointment, and that forgiveness is not a sign of weakness, but of growth. Those who cherish their siblings learn how to live in the greater world with empathy and resilience, for the lessons of that “mini-civilization” echo across all human relationships.

So, my child, remember this wisdom: within every family lies a kingdom unseen, and within that kingdom, the first lessons of love are written. If you have siblings, honor them. Whether you walk in unity or in distance, know that your bond is older than time, shaped by the same forces that bind stars in the heavens. Forgive them often, laugh with them deeply, and remember them always, for they are the co-authors of your earliest story. And if life has separated you, let pride fall away, and reach out — for the laws of that small civilization, once formed in innocence, remain unbroken by the years. In learning to love your siblings, you learn to love humanity itself — with all its myths, its flaws, and its endless, radiant complexity.