Dear Little Brother

(That's me in the center. Blinking like always.)

Dear little brother, today you are 17. Today you stand at 6 feet tall and you are a lean mean little bugger of a teenager, but seventeen years ago? Seventeen years ago you were only 19 inches long and weighed a wee 6 little pounds. Dear little brother, seventeen years ago we all anxiously hopped into a car to head off to the hospital to meet you. The first time I saw you, I knew we would be best friends. I knew I would love you more than cookies and ice cream, I knew you were special.

Dear little brother, I know you don't remember this, but my favorite memories of you and me are the moments when you were but a few months old and I was five, and we would snuggle up on Mom's bed as I would rub your tiny little belly and tell you stories about what you would be like when you were bigger and I would sing you songs about your birthday (I wanted you to have a pink birthday cake for your first birthday). I remember thinking that there couldn't be anything better in the world than being a big sister to tiny curly haired you. 

(You were a little too heavy for Allison's small arms. You look like a constipated Korean.)

Dear little brother, remember when you spoke a mix of Spanish, English, and baby talk? I was the only one who understood you. For about a year I was your interpreter. You could only be understood with me around. Dear little brother, remember that time you saw that little boy from our neighborhood picking on me and you hurried over to stomp on his feet? You were 3. He was 8. You still won the battle. That was the moment that I knew, no matter how much smaller you were than your opponent, you would always have my back. Of course, now, there are very few people who you don't tower over.

Dear little brother?

I. Love. You.