"Do you have any siblings?"

Growing up I was confused on how to answer this question. It's a legitimate question you ask someone when getting to know them. So why was I so taken aback every time someone asked me if I had any siblings?

To answer the question, yes, I have an older brother. Well, he's my half-brother, to be exact. Oh, what side? My dad's, he is my dad's son. Yes, my dad was married before my mom. My brother is 11 years older than me. Yes, we get along.

That's why I don't like that question. When I was little, it was really confusing for me. My friends' siblings lived at home with them, and they were only a few years older than they were. My brother was in high school when I started kindergarten, and he didn't live with us. So was I an only child?

The answer is complicated and bizarre. No, because my dad has two kids and, yes, because my mom has one. Did I grow up as an only child? Yes. If we're being literal, I was the only child in my house. I felt embarrassed how confusing it was for me explaining it other people that I would start to ramble and my answers would change depending on that moment I was asked. Sometimes I would say that I was an only child and other times I would say I wasn't. It wasn't until I was in high school where I changed my answer: Yes, I am an only child... well sort of. Then, I would go into it, about how I have a half brother.

I had the best of both worlds. I was a part-time only child, part-time sister. I still had the world of an only child: imaginary friends, solo adventures, my own room, tantrums (only child syndrome!) -- and yes, I was very spoiled. As an only child, I learned independence. I also learned to take care of myself, entertain myself, teach myself, and overall I became a very unique, imaginative individual.

On the other side, I had a brother. My brother was a protector, a role model, and a teacher. He introduced me to all the cool bands that the older kids were listening to and gave me an upper hand over my peers. He made me laugh and rarely made me cry. Unlike the horror stories my friends would tell me, my brother never locked me in a closet or cut off all of my dolls' hair. He drove me places in his cool car, and he listened to me. He was older and much wiser, and it was something I needed.

I don't say he's my half brother anymore like I did when I was a kid. He's my brother. That's the answer: I have an older brother, Josh. Ironically enough, he and I are more like twins. We have so many of the same qualities (thanks, dad) and mannerisms that it's no doubt he's my brother. I like the position I was given. I had the best of both worlds growing up, and it helped shape me to be the person I am today.

Shout out to Josh for surviving my adolescence and teen years. Being an older brother, 11 years older, is a tough job with a sister like me. Thank you for never treating me like a half sister and loving me always with your whole heart.