I have a brother. He’s 21 years old, and bigger than I am. But he will always be that little boy that has always called me sissy.
He called me sissy because he couldn’t say my name.
In preschool I brought him to show n’ tell. Apparently it was a hit because to this day, people I graduated with ask me if my brother is still as cute as he was back then, and if he still has those beautiful eyes.
As we got older, I didn’t like him so much. Like all siblings, we had our issues. But we always over came them.
There are a few special moments that I remember about my brother and when we were growing up.
I remember eating cereal all day on the weekends, dressing him up like a girl (he was like 3 or 4), playing in the woods, sharing a bedroom back at Ridgewood Oaks, moving on Christmas, switching bedrooms when I was in middle school.
Him helping me when I broke my ankle, Him getting in lots of trouble in elementary school, his temper tantrums and how sweet he can be.
He went to my dance recitals, he was there when I graduated from high school, with very insightful words of not getting a credit card. He went with me when I bought my first lap top, he helped me move into my first college dorm room. I took him to his college freshman orientation.
I can’t lie, my brother is pretty amazing. And, I’m very proud of the young man that he is turning into. And even though I have always wanted a sister, I’m glad that I have a brother.
Since we’ve gotten older, we may not talk as much as we used to, but we’re still pretty close. And I wouldn’t change that for anything in the world.
The first time he met his nephew. This picture just melts my hear every time.
I have a pretty amazing little brother, and I hope that Oliver loves him as much as I do.