My dearest little sister,

It seems only yesterday that I was 4 years old and holding you in my arms for the first time in that crowded waiting-room at the hospital. No offense, but you didn’t look very pretty. I was expecting you to look a lot more peaceful. You weren’t all that much fun to play with either. You cried all the time, Mom never let me hold you after I accidentally dropped you, and you hogged all the attention.

Then, as you got older, you finally took an interest in me. But the wrong kind of interest. You started playing with my toys and wanted to go on my play-dates. You wanted to dress like me and go to Club Libby Lu to get makeovers. You still thought Chuck E. Cheese was cool, and "Barbie and the Princess and the Pauper" was your favorite movie. I let you play with me, but only begrudgingly. And it had to be on my terms. You were growing up, but not fast enough for me.

And before I realized it, I missed it. I just blinked, but suddenly, I woke up and I had a beautiful and mature little sister. No more ill-fitting clothes, gaudy make-up, or crazy obsessions with Hello Kitty (well, maybe the last one is still true.) That shy little girl was replaced with a confident young woman. Suddenly, I had a new best friend, a confidant, and mentor. We started sneaking into each others rooms to watch our favorite TV shows together. We planned “sister date nights” and would treat ourselves to dinner and a movie. We started making monthly pedicures a habit. I actually started taking your advice about clothes, and you learned to compliment my style. I learned to trust you, and you trusted me.

But that only lasted for a brief moment. I moved off to college, and you started high school. Summer was over and I couldn’t bake cookies with you or spend a lazy day watching Netflix by the pool. That little girl that had been such an important part of my life was suddenly unavailable. I’ve tried to find someone here at school to replace you, but the truth is, no matter how many supportive and loving friends I have, they can never be you.

Sometimes, I absentmindedly scroll through your Facebook page and read about your weekend, or look through your photos and smile at your selfies before prom. I smile—I really do—but I also feel tears building up behind my eyes. I realize that, for the first time in my life, I’m not there to share these memories with you. I’m not there to help you choose your first prom dress or watch you go on your first date. And suddenly, I miss that annoying little girl who would never leave me alone.

I miss you because you weren’t annoying—well, not really annoying. You were so eager and so happy when I let you play with me. You were so persistent, never too tired to play, even when I had brushed you off many times. You were okay with playing "the villain" just so I could play "the hero." You were OK playing the little sister.

I’m sorry that I can’t hear you clump past my door on the way to the kitchen in the mornings. Sorry that I can’t spend late nights eating popcorn and candy and watching "Titanic." Sorry that I can’t just be with you. I miss that. And I think back on all those missed opportunities. I could have spent more time with you, gone to Chuck E. Cheese, watched Barbie movies, or let you play "the hero."

But even though I wasn’t always there, I was always watching, and I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become. Maybe I was always a little jealous of you—you certainly are a far better cook than I’ll ever be. You’ve truly blossomed into your own, and I am proud to call you my little sister. I love you, little sis. I (secretly) always have, and I always will.

Your Big Sissy

P.S. Can we go to Libby Lu next weekend? I don’t want to do my makeup. Also, Chuck E. Cheese? I want to get 1000 tickets so I can finally get the teddy bear prize.