Everyone always says that you're lucky if you are an only child. They say, "You must be so spoiled" or, "You must get all of the attention." I'm not sure I ever understood why people would tell me that. Spoiled? I never thought so. Bored out of mind is more like it. All I wanted as an only child was a sibling; Someone to play my board games with, complain to, and gossip with. I can't say that I didn't get that from friends at school or cousins at family get-togethers, but at the end of the day, I didn't live with them. They wouldn't be there with me after school, on weekends, or during holidays. Maybe I just thought it would be special to have someone that shared a parent with me. Soon high school came and by that time the thought of having a sibling seemed unlikely. You could imagine my surprise at seventeen years old when my step-mom told me she was pregnant.

I couldn't believe it. After seventeen years of waiting, it was finally going to happen for me. A sibling! Yet, I was unable to shake the feeling that it wouldn't be the same as I had once imagined. The idea seemed all fine and dandy at the age of eight or nine when I was still into playing at the park and could order from the kids' menu. But at seventeen? I was already on my way to graduating from high school. My days of hopscotch and Teletubbies were long gone. Geez, the baby wouldn't even know what Teletubbies was. Don't get me wrong, my excitement for a new baby was not at all diminished. However, it was now accompanied by the fear that I would be more of a mother or aunt than a sister.

Precisely one year and twenty-four full days ago, my baby sister was born. I was sick with the common cold that day, so touching a newborn went against all rules. But I didn't have to hold her to form that bond. One look and in an instant, it felt as though she was holding me. In that instant, I knew that I would do anything for her. I'd jump the Grand Canyon in a single leap or even eat an entire onion (which I despise for the record). I'd do it all for my sister. Suddenly, she wasn't seventeen years younger than me. I didn't feel like a mom or an aunt. I felt like a sister.

Now attending college, I come home each day to a silly little one-year-old. She lights me up with her excited smile that resembles mine on the day she was born. Funny enough, I think she recognizes me as a sister too. She gets annoyed with me, steals my room and all my stuff, and even has full-on arguments with me in a gibberish baby language. Sounds crazy, huh? I argue with a one-year-old. I guess age really doesn't matter when it comes to siblings. Of course, I'll get confused as her mother from time to time, but why not have some fun with that, right? I used to think that I wanted a sibling because I needed someone to play with and take me away from the endless boredom that comes with being an only child. The truth is, all I needed was that sibling bond and love. She could've been born ten years from now when I'll be twenty-eight, but I wouldn't care. I'd love her just the same.

P.S. One day I'll be 37 and she'll be 20. It won't sound so weird then. Funny how age works, isn't it?