My younger brother is around 3 and a half years younger than I am, meaning that most of my memories include him. In fact, the first coherent memory that I remember is what I wore the day that my brother was born. This is probably due to the fact that there is a thousand pictures of that day, but I also remember the cookies my grandma brought to our house, because Christmas was right around the corner (he was born December 19th). I remember my mom and dad telling me to look at my baby brother.

Our childhood was spent in a cul-de-sac surrounded by kids around our ages. Days were spent at the pool, riding bikes, drawing with chalk, playing games; and the one consistent thing about those days was my little brother. I taught him how to read, and how to write and gave him advice on what to wear. We used to lay on our sectional couch, that was quite large, and instead of spreading out to watch TV or movies like normal kids do, we would squeeze ourselves into one tiny corner right next to each other. Every. Dang. Morning. Without fail.

Having a sibling is something that is truly enlightening, because they are the person that actually understands how crazy your own household is. They have been with you when your mom forgot to make dinner or your dad burned the chicken, and you had to pretend to like it. You woke up every Christmas morning with them. They are the only person that saves you at family events and gives you some kind of strength to get through the family holidays and greetings.

I will admit, my brother and I are closer than most. Growing up, we obviously went through puberty, and that meant being nasty to each other and yelling, but at the end of every day, we would be fine and sit down together. I don’t see my brother every single day because he’s a kid, and just like I was as a 14 year old, he is usually sleeping over with friends and hanging out with girls. However, these past few nights before I pack up and leave for college have been particularly interesting.

I never thought that he would miss me, because you know the way that silly, little boys act. They refuse to show any type of emotion other than the hard-ass expression. I continually asked him over the months of June and July, “Are you going to miss me?” and then he would laugh as he would say “Yes, Isabelle” and roll his eyes, not meaning a single word and just saying it to shut me up. As the month of August has approached us, my college things have piled up and the upcoming date of August 8th has approached, his demeanor has changed. I come home late and he will be waiting up, and ask me to come sit down and watch a movie. The past few nights he wants me to stay close to him and talk to him. It’s incredibly nice, but it also makes me sad, because I know that I am going to miss sitting with him and making stupid jokes at dumb TV shows.

So to my little brother, Harrison. Whether you would like to admit it or not, I know you will miss me; just as I will miss you. I’ll miss making you sandwiches because you’re too lazy to do it yourself, even though I act like I hate it. I’ll miss taking you to friends houses, even though I roll my eyes and curse when you ask me to. I’ll miss dancing and singing to “My Humps” in the car with you and laughing. I’ll miss making jokes about Mom and Dad. I’ll miss you. BUT, remember, I am only a call or a text away. We can talk every single day. And… if you EVER need anything, remember that I am your big sister and I would do anything for you. Any time of day, any type of thing, I’ve got you.