Mom’s command came from the hallway. “Picture time. 3 minutes.” I helped my younger brother, essentially the male version of me (except with short hair and braces) shimmy into his cap and gown—due to a sports injury, he had been confined to a wrist cast for months now. After zipping up his robe, I looked up, and a wave of unexpected emotion caused tears to rush to my eyes. “Carson,” I choked, “Look at you. You’re graduating!”

I couldn’t believe it, my baby brother was about to say goodbye to childhood—his time at the small-but-mighty Saint Paul High School had come to an end. Wasn’t it just yesterday that year and a half old me was insisting that my parents name him Carlos (I mispronounced “Carwos,” after my favorite character on Barney, they settled for Carson)? Weren’t we just playing t-ball together, romping in our muck boots hunting for puddles to splash in, and taking pictures in our Halloween costumes together, posing in our signature back to back formation?

Not only that, but two short years ago—seemingly yesterday—I was in his shoes, about to take the stage, sit through the ceremony, throw my cap, say my goodbyes. And here he was, about to jump ponds, just like I was. Within a matter of months, my baby brother is going to experience the transition from being a big fish in a small pond to exactly the opposite. That’s right, my brother is about to join Beaver Nation (and I couldn’t be prouder).

Being the eldest of three kids, and first sibling in my family to go to college, I was stone cold terrified to go away to school—I went from a small school environment with a class of 21 (yes, 21) to a huge campus and a class of thousands. After a few rough weeks, I managed to settle in to my new home and eventually found that Corvallis was a place where I could grow and thrive. I was lucky to have found my place here and now call Oregon State my home. Looking at my grown and capable, yet somehow still kid brother, all dressed up in his robe and "Star Wars"-themed decorated cap, I wondered, how well would he swim in the big pond?

The ceremony was emotional, as expected. The small school system works in such a way that you stick with pretty much the same group for about 10 years, which molds your class into a family, whether you like it or not. His group of classmates in particular were a wonderful mix of characters, and it felt like the end of an era. Several times I became overwhelmed with emotion with gratefulness and pride for our small community. (That’s the soft way of admitting I cried. I cried, a lot. Okay?)

Reconnecting with family, old friends, and teachers, I was reminded of my own experiences and the lessons I had learned. Not the facts I crammed in school, but the big stuff—stuff like time management, how to start and hold a decent conversation, how to build and maintain relationships, the importance of travel, how to act professionally, how to perform in front of a crowd, and how to fight fear in order to chase your dreams.

There’s something reassuring about coming home and being surrounded by the people that made you who you are. Carson’s graduation made me realize that what I learned growing up in St. Paul and at that school—the same things that he learned as well—was what prepared me for my move out of the nest, and for everything I have been through and accomplished here. My brother will go through the same trials that every college student goes through, and I expect him to rise to the occasion.

We have both been blessed to have come from a supportive community which shaped us into sturdy, capable individuals. I realize now that whatever pond he chooses, and wherever he decides to go in life, he will learn how to adapt, and will eventually thrive. I’m a proud sister, and I know that he can and will go on to find his passions, and do great things.