I remember when I first found out my parents were having a new baby – you don’t forget the moment you learn you’re no longer the center of attention, especially being a little kid. I remember thinking that I wanted him to be a her, and that I’d give anything to make my little brother a sister. I was five years old when my baby brother, Naythan, was born.
He is so incredibly loud. He’s obnoxious. He plays Xbox with his friends and yells when he doesn’t do something correctly or when someone ruins something for him during the game. He does his homework at the last minute and is a master procrastinator. Occasionally, he’s moody and temperamental. He uses too much cologne sometimes and asks me weird questions, or simply makes weird statements. He’s fourteen, going on fifteen, and I still remember when he was barely five and wouldn’t change out of his favorite dinosaur pajamas to save his life.
My little brother and I fight, frequently. We argue. We bicker. That’s typical of siblings, though, isn’t it? It’s just so funny, sometimes, the way it happens. I’ll do something. He’ll do something. Either way, someone ends up annoyed and an argument ensues. Ten minutes later, we could be laughing with one another, or we could be ignoring one another. When it’s over, he’s right beside me again to take on whatever it is the world throws at us.
I don’t know how it works for other people, but I’m pretty sure Nayte was my very first best friend. We’re only five years apart, which isn’t a very large gap, so as kids, we were very close. We’re just as close now. It never really petered out at any given point in our lives. I’d go as far as saying he’s still one of my best friends, despite the fighting and bickering and confusion that comes along with having a sibling.
I go to Nayte for almost everything – tears, laughter or silence. If I just need to sit for a moment without bothering anyone, or without anyone bothering me, he understands. If I need entertainment, he tries his best. Yes, there are times when I would much rather be my own company, but it’s always nice to know that my baby brother is there to console me or to keep me busy. I go to him for advice (it’s not weird; he’s wise for fifteen, and I don’t know how that happened). I go to him to tell him about a new book I have read and think he may like. I go to him to share new music. I go to him to share my day.
He probably won’t read this. But the best part about having a sibling you’re close to is knowing that you don’t have to justify your bond. You don’t have to classify it and clarify it and validate it. He could never see this, and that will never affect how there for him I will always be and vice versa.
My parents raised us to be close. Morbid as it may sound, when you don’t have your parents or any other family or whatever, your siblings might be the only ones left around you. Your siblings are little pieces of family that you’ll always carry with you, in small moments, wherever you go. At least, for me, I know that no matter where the wind takes me, I’ll keep something that reminds me of my brother nearby.
Why does it matter? Why do I look up to a fourteen year old high school freshman?
You see, you can pick your friends, but you cannot pick your family. I was blessed with a little brother, annoying and dickish as he may be sometimes, who cares so deeply about the people and things that he loves. I am blessed with a little brother who will always fight for me no matter the battle, no matter the enemy. I am blessed with a little brother who, without having to hear me say even one word, will know that something is wrong.
I am blessed with a little brother who is so full of wisdom beyond his years. His intellect and insight greatly overshadows, and rightfully so, my intellect and insight during my early teen years. I am blessed with a little brother who believes in something, as early in his life as he may be, he has his views. He researches the world and topics out of reach to him in his grade in school.
Having a younger sibling is almost like becoming a parent, of course to a lesser extent. When he was born, I wasn’t amused. As we grew together, I wanted to take care of him and teach him how to be strong and to teach him how to live his life without worry or fear, something I do quite often despite wanting him to be the strongest version of himself.
Having a younger sibling is like becoming a parent, for me, because I became so invested in my brother’s success and well-being that I worry about him as if he were my child sometimes. He’ll stay up too late to do his homework, maybe because he fell asleep upon sitting down after school or because he procrastinated his day away, but I notice. I notice because I was just there, and I still am, and I want him to take care of himself. It’s sad, watching him grow up this way, but it’s a part of being the big sister, I guess. It’s happy, too. I do get to watch him become his own person, after all.
I am blessed with a little brother who isn’t so little anymore. He’s taller than me now. His voice is deeper, as are his thoughts. He is growing up and becoming a person I wish I could’ve been at his age, and I look up to that because he possesses the tact that so many grown adults lack. He has more consideration and compassion in his pinky finger than plenty of grown men and women.
He’s my big-little brother, and I’m so proud of him. He might be a smartass. He might be a little lazy and carefree. He might get on your nerves and on my nerves occasionally. He might outwit me sometimes, but he’s my brother, and I wouldn’t change him for the world, flaws and all.
I’ve been very much inclined to think about my future. I can only imagine a few people from my present cementing a place in that future, and my brother is very high on that list. I’m convinced I need him. I’m convinced he needs me. I’m convinced that we lean on each other very often and that it isn’t a bad thing.
If you ever see this, Nayte, know that I love you, kid. Thank you for being a source of hope and degrading jokes for fifteen years so far. You’ve taught me so much already.
