I remember...

...the day he was born.

It was the evening of my kindergarten Christmas program.

My mom wanted to come, even though she was in the early stages of labor.

My sister and I were sent off to stay with the neighbors, our pastor (is that right mom?).

Anyway, I remember going to the hospital to meet my new brother.

I remember him being tiny and small and getting to hold him only when I was sitting down on the couch or some other cushy/sturdy seat.

I remember his little lisp and his high squeaky voice before it changed.

I remember giving him baths and changing his diaper.

I remember him taking his first steps in our living room on the burgundy carpet.

I remember when he sucked his fingers to fall asleep while clutching his favorite blanket.

I remember him running around the backyard with me and my sister, making mud pies and making our slide slippery with pieces of wax paper.

I remember forcing him to play orphanage and dress up because he was the youngest.

I remember riding big wheels and roller racers around the carport during rainstorms.

I remember him sitting the in the same seat at the dinner table at every meal, every day of my growing up life.

I remember coming home from college and realizing he wasn't 10 years old anymore. I could have real conversations with him about adult things.

I remember him graciously letting me hang out with him when I was lonely after coming back home to live after college for 2 years.

I remember being ecstatic when he came to work at camp.

I remember being over the moon when he came to LIVE at camp for almost 2 whole years. I never took him being only a walk away for granted.


It's such a strange thing when your siblings grow up. They just have to always be your dearest friends. They know everything about you. The good, the bad and the really bad. They love you more fiercely than any other person you are ever friends with.

When I think about him now, off on the other side of the country, working at a place he loves, meeting new people and living his life, he's still that 3 year old that would pound on my bedroom door until I let him come in to play. He's still that 10 year old that built huge contraptions in his bedroom just so he wouldn't have to get out of the bed to turn off the light at night.

He's all those things and he's all grown up too.

It still freaks me out that he is an adult now. In my mind, he'll always be that 2 year old with a lisp, just small enough to be picked up and carried around on my hip.....


Happy Birthday, my dear brother. I love you lots and lots.