Hey there kiddo,

I hope you know just how much you mean to me. Sure, it took me a little bit of getting used to the idea of having you around at first, but can you blame me? After 13 years of being an only child, hearing that there would be someone with whom I had to share my life was like turning my world inside out. I could no longer use “I’m an only child” as my fun fact at the beginning-of-the-year introductions for school! It felt like part of my identity was being taken away.

Even though that was how I felt before I had even met you, I now realize that my identity has only been affected positively by your existence. You’ve helped me gain so much more from my own existence.

As a kid, I was shy. Not the normal, pretty cute, coy sort of shy that means someone comes out of their shell if you talk about something they’re interested in. I was the sort of shy that meant I couldn’t say "hello" out loud because I didn’t want people to hear my voice. Until I was too old to admit, I would hide behind our mother’s legs to avoid introducing myself or answering any questions. The most anyone could get out of me was a nod. Ordering food with me was a nightmare for our family. The waiter/waitress or cashier would have to ask me to repeat myself at least twice. Mom eventually gave up and ordered for me when my turn arose.

It wasn’t that I never spoke, I just hated having to speak to people who I did not know well. I would have had to interact with someone on several memorable occasions before I could speak up about anything.

I don’t think that a single one of my friends from college would believe me if I told them I was a shy kid. I can be seen at least twice per month on campus unabashedly sporting a onesie. I frequently dance in public or even on the softball field. I will easily and happily spark conversations about food, a book or any topic I find even slightly intriguing. I especially love talking about all of the fun times I've had with you, and I show everyone any pictures or videos of you that Mom and Dad send me.

I don’t know what specific event was the trigger, but it seems to me that I changed quite a bit after you were born. Maybe it was your birth, maybe not — it sounds too poetic to be true. No matter the root cause, I’d like to attribute the change in my personality to the fact that you were around to bring out the better in me.

I think this is a perfectly reasonable theory, you bringing me out of my shell. You were born when I was 14 years old, when I was transitioning from middle to high school and my personality was extremely malleable. When you came along, I realized that there was no one in the world who I would rather make fun of myself to entertain. I would do pretty much anything to put a smile on your face, or, better yet, get a little laugh from your chubby cheeks. I could cross my eyes and stick out my tongue while speaking in a strange baby voice all day long, even in public, if it would make you happy. In the long run, I think doing things like that has helped me be more comfortable making fun of myself. I don’t feel like I need to take myself so seriously anymore, and I am not afraid of a little bit of embarrassment. I can wear my onesies around with pride now, because I could do it for you, and now I can do it for myself, too.

I have learned quite a bit from being your older sister. I’ve learned to be more confident when speaking. I always want the best for you, whether I know it or not, so if I am confident in what I say and clear in how I say it, you will better understand and learn to do the same yourself. I’ve learned to be more responsible, especially when other people are involved. Even though I babysat quite a bit before you were born, I did not learn as much as I did about having a child around until you were there. I can confidently say that if and when the time comes for me to have a kid of my own, taking care of you has prepared me sufficiently.

I don’t like the idea of having any regrets in life, but if I had to say I had one, it would be that I chose to go to school so far away from you. I love my school, the education I am getting, the opportunities I have and the people I have met, but you, baby brother, mean more to me than all of those things combined. Sometimes, I feel like I am missing out on watching you grow up. Sure, Mom and Dad send me pictures of your first days of classes and videos of you in your baseball uniforms, but the excitement I get from those things pales in comparison to the way I saw your facial expressions shift in excitement and confusion when I surprised you at your kindergarten winter concert or how I feel when you show up to my games and I can hear you say, “That’s my sister!” to anyone who crosses your path.

I never thought I could be as ecstatic to see another human being as I am every time I get to see you. When I book a flight home, I can’t shut up about how much I want to hug you and never let go. I know you probably won’t remember this when the time comes, but you’ve promised that you’ll move in with me when you turn 16 years old. I think about that all the time. It is my biggest motivator. I want to have my life put together with a decent job and house by the time I am 30 years old so that you can have a place to stay in my — wait, no — our home. I owe so much of my personal growth to you, and I just want you to know that I keep trying to be better so that I can be the sister you deserve and are proud to have.

Love always,

Your big sister