To my brother,

You are a height I aspire to reach. We were born three years apart. You held me when I was a baby. We took the expected brother/sister family photos. You also lit my diapers on fire. I wasn't wearing them but you still did it. We constantly pick on each other, even now.

At 20 and 23 respectively, we still have our childish moments. There are still the nu-uh vs. yeah-huh moments. There are still the moments when I stick my tongue out at you, when I have nothing else to say. You taught me how to stick up for myself. You attempted to teach me to have a thick skin. It didn't work, but at least you tried.

You taught me to be careful, but more so, to be prepared. You taught me how to throw a punch and how to take a beating. You taught me manners and didn't let me get away with not saying "please and thank you."

You were my protector in high school, even if you didn't realize it. You don't know how much of a blessing it was to have a "Football God" as an older brother when you were somewhat of a misfit.

I remember hearing people in the school snigger at me because I wore skinny jeans instead of bootcut, and then I would hear the follow-up "Dude that's Opie's little sister, leave her alone." I was invincible in school, because your reputation followed me. I could do no wrong in school, because all of my teachers knew you. I loved watching you play football. In my mind, you were always the best. You actually were a Football God to me.

You were kind when you could be, and harsh when you had to be. You'd defend me to the death even if you wouldn't admit it. I've lived in your shadow for most of my life and I've gotten pretty comfortable being Opie's or O'dyole's little sister.

Myself going off to college taught me that I'm not going to be able to depend on that. I've looked up to you for years, and I don't think that's ever going to change. So here's my "Thank You" to the best big brother in the world.