My two younger brothers and I have always gotten along somewhat, but have never been too close. We always simply coexisted in our house; occasionally, fights would break out, but it was usually radio-silence between us, save for polite talk at the dinner table.

My parents always wanted us to be closer than we were; they always wanted us to become close friends that could find someone to confide in when looking at each other.

My oldest brother, Nick, seldom talks. He prefers to keep to himself and is usually found hiding away in his room talking to his friends over video games. When it comes to sharing things about himself, he isn’t one that gives freely.

My younger brother, Luke, is almost the exact opposite of this. He is often the loudest person in the room and is very outgoing and personal. He loves to share stories and entertain; Luke’s favorite place is the center of attention. Getting him to talk is never a difficult task— in fact, shutting him up is the more challenging thing.

I never imagined I would go off to college and somehow find myself missing either of my brothers. But I did.

As it turns out, me moving away was exactly what we needed to become closer.

Now when I come home for weekends or breaks, both brothers immediately come to hug me. I have received more hugs from both of them this year than I have the last 13 and 17 years of their lives.

Nick suddenly can’t seem to shut up when I come home; he’s too busy telling me everything I missed.

Luke will sometimes even follow me around the house for a while, just catching up.

Me leaving has brought us closer than we have ever been before.

Who would have thought that the only way to bring my brothers and I closer was to take us apart?