My brother found a good resting place after our graduation in May, 2011. Waking up early was a mess and going to a college graduation at 9am for his twin sisters was probably the most miserable thing he’s had to do. Never mind that it was in San Diego and we were staying in a fancy beach house with a view like this:
Never mind that he wiggled his way into the ottoman or got to play golf in the courtyard of my sophomore dorm:
My brother has always supported us. Perhaps not because he wanted to, but because he had to to get rides anywhere. And I know in his own special way, he still does. It’s not always easy for sixteen year olds to convey emotion, so I won’t pry. My little brother turns 17 on the 23rd of this month. I couldn’t be a prouder sis, and am so lucky to call him family. Even when he’s a pain in the ass. When I didn’t live here, I wanted to be here to be around that child (and my parents). He’s a mess, but he’s hilarious. And he’s smart and he’s got great taste in everything (thanks to me, obviously). So it’s ok when he finds a balloon arch to take a nap on. I won’t knock it when he wants to take the car and leaves me stranded at home. I’ll support him in his athletic endeavors (golf 24/7 right now). He might be THE GOLDEN CHILD but, really, he deserves that title. I mean, look at him.
I say all of these things with the realization that he will never read my blog. Womp womp.