My little brother turns 21 today. I was in summer camp, between 5th and 6th grade, when he was born. My stepfather came to pick me and my sister up at school. I guess he or my mom had called ahead to pull us out of our classrooms because I remember waiting in the office for him to arrive. I don’t remember visiting at the hospital (though I’m sure we did, since we got pulled out of school and all), but I do remember once he and mom were home watching him in his crib. I remember helping her change him and feed him, and strolling him around the neighborhood, playing with him, watching movies with him, and when he was Brandon’s age, I’d be the one to read stories to him and tuck him in at night.
I can’t believe it’s been 21 years…I see him in front of me, but I can’t wrap my head around the fact that my little brother is now a grown man. It’s been a rough couple of years. He got into some trouble, as kids his age are prone to do, but he has a heart of gold, and it pleases me to no end when I see him playing with my kids, same as we did with him when he was their age.
Happy birthday, little brother. I’m so proud of the man you have become, but I’m even prouder to be called your sister.

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