I was five years old when my brother came into this world. I waited anxiously for the nine months my mother was pregnant, pretending each of my dolls was the sibling I was to have. When they brought her to the hospital, I fidgeted through episodes of Batman with my dad and threw up all over the bed, just waiting to be introduced to my new brother, the tiny human being I already saw as my own. I finally held him in my arms, the smallest, pinkest creature I had ever seen, and he reached up with his teeny hand and pulled on my hair. That was the day I became a sister.

Being an older sister is a job. It’s turning down plans with friends and after school sporting events to babysit. It’s hiding all of your Barbie dolls for their own safety, and then finding them on your bedroom floor with their heads ripped off. It’s learning to share your toys, your snacks, and your time with patience. It’s learning to be a role model when you don’t even necessarily have a role model of your own. But even when it’s challenging or upsetting, it’s a job that’s worth it.

Being an older sister is also a duty. You feel a rush of protectiveness and strength that you never had before. You find that you can handle people making fun of you or picking on you, but you never want to see your younger sibling face those burdens. When they scrape their knees learning to ride their bicycles, you wipe their tears and help them back on. When they experience heartbreak, you make deadly threats about what pain you’d like to cause the one that hurt them. You never want them to suffer the ways you did. You never want to see them sad.

Being an older sister means being a teacher. Since you already learned to tie your shoes, you are equipped with the knowledge to teach them to do the same. You know how hard it was to learn Chemistry or Algebra, so you’re always willing to lend a hand when you see them struggle. The problems that you faced just a few short years ago will be the problems that they are facing now, so you guide them in hopes that it may be easier for them. You never want to see them fail, even if you’d never actually tell them that. And when they succeed, you can take pride in the fact that you played a small part in that.

I love being an older sister. I love knowing that I helped to shape my favorite person. There were days when I was frustrated beyond belief, but that is what family does to you. There were times when I thought we would never stop fighting or see eye to eye on anything, but there were also times when it seemed like we would never stop laughing. I got to spend most of my life having someone to roll my eyes with when my parents were being embarrassing, who understood the challenges I faced because we faced them together. I got a built-in best friend, someone who would never leave or turn his back on me. And that is something to cherish.