Little Brother

You were born my senior year of high school. At a time when some of my own classmates were having or already had babies, I was gaining a sibling for the first time in my life. Our relationship would never be exactly sibling-like in nature with the age difference and we would both grow up and be raised like only children. 

I remember being embarrassed that my Mom was pregnant with you. I suppose just because I was a teenager and we're always embarrassed about things like that. But I also remember talking about baby names and anticipating your arrival.

I remember the day you were born. My best friend at the time and half of our family stood in the waiting room waiting for your arrival. I was the first to go back to the delivery room. If Mom had had her way, I would have been there during delivery but it wasn't the place for me. I came back and there was still blood on the sheets. You were brand new to this world and screaming. I remember holding you and whispering my love to this tiny being that I didn't know yet. But I knew I would love you. 

Transitioning to a house with a baby was a bit difficult. Thank goodness I'm a heavy sleeper. Once Mom's maternity leave was over and I had finished school, I spent a week taking care of you. I remember crying as you screamed for hours asking you, "What do you want?" in a desperate voice. I remember rocking you to sleep singing "Never Grow Up" and I meant it. I meant it deeply. I wanted to keep you that little. 

But you did grow up all too quickly and before I knew it, it was your first birthday. You were so excited as you voraciously ate your cake. I remember the blue and red icing combined into purple on your face. I remember the sticky aftermath everywhere. 

You were a difficult baby and toddler and I was a young woman trying to find my own way. So I moved out but I was always there to come hang out with you, love you, or take you places when I got the chance. 

I resented you at times. It wasn't your fault but I was at that point in my life where I should have been having a better adult friendship with Mom but you were always there. And you were always into trouble, needing a scolding, or screaming in a store. It made it difficult to figure out how to be your sister and to forge a new relationship with Mom. 

I remember my wedding day. You were almost three years old and going to be my ring bearer. You threw a monstrous fit about wearing your bow tie. It's okay, you weren't the most annoying or most straining part of the day and your run down the aisle with the ring was cute and silly.

I remember the last Christmas I spent with you. I came over earlier than I normally would have just to see you. Just to see you run exuberantly into the quiet living room with snow on the trees outside and the twinkling white lights inside. Soon enough there was wrapping paper confetti everywhere and your happiness was contagious. It was a reminder that the joy of Christmas is made by children. 

And then we left for Okinawa. I said goodbye to you at the airport just like the rest of the family and I tried to hold the tears back like a lump in my throat as I thought about how much you would grow in three years. I wouldn't be there for birthdays and holidays. I would miss out on so much. You were so young. What if you forgot about me?

But Mom and Shayne wouldn't let you forget about me. We FaceTimed and I came home every year and I got to see how much you grew and changed year to year. Those times together were precious even when they were hard. 

And then we came back to the states and I met you and Mom and Shayne out in Colorado and New Mexico for vacation. You whined a lot. I think you're a homebody like me. I'm afraid I got annoyed too easily with your whining and said too much. It was still so good to see you and experience life with you again.

And a year later when I had to move home to finish school, you were this grown little person with your own quirks and personality. We got to reestablish a relationship together. You called me "sissy" all the time and it still makes my heart melt when you do. 

I'm hard on you. I don't let you get away with as much as your parents. I may say too much about your toy obsession but I only do it because I see the same mistakes Mom made with me being made with you. I see it a lot. But I also see that she's more gentle and kind with you than she was with me. She learned a lot after parenting me and I'm glad that you're getting pieces of her that I never got. 

You sit in my bedroom and love on Luna, work on math problems I give you, play prodigy, and read books. We color in coloring books on rainy days and draw with chalk on the sunny ones. Once the pool is open, I'll always be the one that goes outside with you. Sometimes I'll pay "sea monster" and sometimes I'll want to chill. Thanks for being happy either way. We go to the library and you stubbornly ignore my recommendations and choose your own. I hope you're always so determined to choose your own path in life. We get icees or ice cream and talk about bigfoot and pokemon. Oh, how you can talk my ear off about pokemon. You're always happy for a hug and an "I love you." You have such a big heart and I see the best parts of you. I hope they continue growing. 

And when it was time for me to leave, we both cried. You were my hardest goodbye. You still call me sissy. I asked you if you would always call me sissy, even when you were big and grown and you said "yes," like it wasn't a question worth thinking about. But I know that you're going to be a teenager soon and you'll be embarrassed by things like that. So I let the words "sissy" and "I love you" sink over me because I knew that in the not-so-far future, they might not come as willingly or easily. 

I remember bits and pieces of you, little brother, as you've flitted through my life. It's difficult knowing that I'll never get to be a constant in your life as you grow up. Those six months back home were a reminder to appreciate and love you whenever we get the chances to be together. And to keep remembering these pieces of you as you grow and change. 

Oh, darling don't you ever grow up. Don't you ever grow up. Just stay this little.