Growing up, my little brother (3 years my junior) and I have never gotten along.

We always fought each other and yelled till our voices were hoarse and threatened to tell on each other. Our parents would have to ban us from speaking to each other for a whole day and go as far as separating us. I would see other sibling relationships and envy at how well they got along. They would hang out, go on sibling dates, confide in each other, post photos on social media, and even say "I love you."

Don't get me wrong. . . my brother and I didn't always not get along. We had our fair share of bonding experiences, but the older we got, the worse we would fight.

He would tell me he can't wait for me to move out, and I would say the same. He hated on my boyfriends and friends, and I would look at him, wondering how a girl could ever like him.

At nights, though, is when I would cry and wish my brother was my best friend. As a girl, it was hard not to have a best friend, and I could have one, living under the very same roof as me, across the hall. I could easily have someone to go to town with me if I fished with him, or someone to tell my secrets to if I would dare keep his. I felt all alone in my home but I didn't have to be.

Where did my little brother go? The chubby one with a curly head of hair was no longer walking around with pockets full of old keys, daddy's tools, and random pens. He no longer collected pockets knives, but instead saved money to fix his truck. He no longer had an imaginary breakup with his imaginary friend but had a real breakup with his real girlfriend.

When he cries, his tears are over real problems instead of not getting a Happy Meal. He no longer comes to my room at night to get back his Nintendo DS, but instead to rant to me about people in high school or cry to me because he wishes he had real friends.

Now, I'm no longer irritated at the existence of my not-so-little brother, but I am now grateful at the young man who is now my best friend. If I don't have someone to ride to town to eat with me, he's there. If I don't have a boyfriend to steal hoodies from, I have him. (It's okay because he steals my t-shirts, too.) I still fuss at him for his driving and for just breathing, and he jokes around how no boy loves me or how my friends secretly hate me, but we know it's not serious.

He's not a peewee football player anymore. He's one of the star football players on his HIGH SCHOOL TEAM, and track team, and golf team. He's not the little boy who made all A's because our grandma helped him study.

He's the 17-year-old that all his teachers brag on for being so smart. He's great at building things, and he will go very far in life. I imagine him being an engineer, inventing the best vehicles. I imagine him being rich, just because he traded his old truck and middle-class house for a bigger house. I imagine him being so much more than he sets himself out to be.

Dear Little Brother,

I'm sorry I wasn't your friend before and I left you all alone. You're one of the smartest, funniest, stupidest, most capable people I know, Kaleb. I'm thankful our friendship has grown into where it is now. I know you probably won't read this unless Mama makes you, but thank you.

I'm proud of how far you have come. I know you want to be mechanic and be like Daddy, but take advantage of the life you have access to. Go above and beyond the limits you have set for yourself. There's more out there beyond our small town. There are better people than you go to high school with. Listen to our parents. Unfortunately, they're mostly right. If you catch yourself saying to them, "that's how it was when y'all were kids", then come to me, and I'll tell you how it is now.

I'm crying as I type this because I realize how bad of a sister I've been. I could have been there for you instead of making things worse. I look back now and see where we could have leaned on each other instead of pushed against.

Please forgive me and let's raise our kids together.

I love you.

Your sister.