My "Little" Brother

My brother is only two and a half years younger than me, and for about two thirds of our lives, we'd seemed to coexist in our own manufactured world of hate. And while this was clearly just a brother-sister jealous kind of hate, something that I hoped would clear up like acne, we sure did fight. And by "fight," I mean kicking, punching, rolling around in the dirt, ripping out each other's hair altercations. It was brutal. I routinely told myself, my friends, and my diary how much I hated him.

But when I moved away to college, something changed. I missed him. I really missed him. I started calling him, and we started talking. I told him about school and the dorms and the guys, and he told me about high school and hockey and the girls. We talked frequently, and he never failed to make me laugh out loud. The kid is hilarious.

And I realized that I loved my annoying little brother. I loved him more than I ever thought possible.

I soon looked forward to holidays and semester breaks for more than the obvious reasons - I could finally spend time with my brother. We annoyed the bejesus out of our parents with our endless supply of inside jokes and across-the-house yelling matches. We recited movie lines without blinking, we concocted elaborate ways of scaring each other involving much more than just jumping out from behind the couch, and we horrified our parents with our constant swearing.

Somewhere, at some point, we became friends.

I don't remember what he said before the picture was snapped,
but I do know I didn't stop laughing for five minutes.

Now, with over 500 miles between us, it's difficult to go more than a week without talking to him. It's amazing how insightful he is, how he always seems to know the answers to my problems, even if it's something that I don't want to admit to myself. And he lets me go off on my rants only interrupting to say encouraging things like, "You're right, she is stupid!" or "I can't believe your landlord did that!" And he still makes me laugh. Snorting, stomach-holding, side-splitting laughter.

And on this, his 24th birthday, I want to tell him how proud I am of the person he has become. He is strong and caring, responsible and thoughtful, intelligent and loving.

He gave me a niece, the most amazing, wonderful baby girl, and in an instant, he became the man I always knew he would be. The love he has for that little girl shines in his eyes and radiates out to all of us.

I am so proud to be his sister.

And when he called me to tell me that there was another baby on the way, I knew that there was no one else better prepared or more deserving than he and Kari.

Happy Birthday, Little Brother. I love you.

My Little Brother and His Baby Girl