I am seven years old and it is Saturday morning. I spring out of bed and rush to the living room to find my brother sitting in front of the TV set watching our weekend cartoons. I take a seat next to him as we view the adorable antics of a pink circle named Kirby.

Fast forward ten years and I am 17. It is Saturday morning (more like afternoon,) and I drag myself out of bed and scuttle to the living room to find my brother sitting in front of the TV set, waiting for me. I plop down on the couch next to him as he presses play and we view the crazy antics of twins, Dipper and Mabel Pines.

Fast forward two years and here I am now, 19 years old, my brother 21. I sit in my dorm room and all of the sudden hear my phone buzz. I look down and see a text from my brother, a picture of Donald Trump with tiny, baby hands. Absolutely no context. I smile as I think about my weird brother and how much I miss him.

Ever since my brother and I were little, we have been closer than most siblings. He used to speak for me when I was too scared to talk. I used to pour his “tea” while he sat across from me in his Scooby-Doo pajamas posing for my mom to take pictures. He was my best friend. In fact, he still is my best friend. My brother is the only man (besides my dad,) who will always be there for me, even though we go to two different colleges in two different cities and have two different plans for our lives.

Even though we fought nonstop until we were 14 and 16, I knew we always had each other’s backs. I would yell at people for making fun of him and he would give stern talking to’s to boys who hurt me. He is the best brother in the world.

I know that may seem like a wild claim, but it’s true! He is the best brother. (And, of course, I’m the best sister ever. In the history of the world. I’m kind of a legend.) What other brother would play with Polly Pockets with his sister to make her happy? What other brother would let his little sister play the character that he wanted in the video game just because she wanted it? What other brother would hug his sister in public while she cries because she literally cries at everything and, unfortunately, has no control over her tear ducts and emotions? None other than my brother. (Unintentional rhyme there. Just thought I’d point it out.)

My big brother is one of the most supportive people in my life, and he cares about me so much that I can feel it everyday, even when I am not with him. There’s no other brother I’d rather be confused as a twin with. He makes me laugh with his silly pictures of Nicholas Cage’s head photoshopped onto random things and corny dad jokes.

So here’s to you, Alfred. Thank you for inspiring me to always try my hardest and to be better than you. (It’s okay, just some friendly, one-sided, sibling competition.) But seriously, thank you for being the best brother ever. I wouldn’t rather be woken up at 6 a.m. on Christmas morning by anyone else.