Mister,

I simply can not believe that you are almost a high schooler. It can’t be real that you are a bonafide teenager. If that is really so, it means that I am an old lady and it is high time that I get myself some cats and settle down as a spinster.

But seriously, you are growing up so fast. I remember the day you were brought home from the hospital in the little blue hat they had given you. The rest of the baby hats were pink. Your sisters and I didn’t know what to do with you. When they told us that you were a boy the three of us freaked out a little bit.

You see, we wanted another sister.

Once we got over the initial shock, it started to be fun to have a little brother. I used to rub your bald little head and we would push you around the house in a little doll stroller. There were songs written in your honor, mostly set to the tune of the theme of Scooby Doo. When the winter came we would push you down our makeshift front porch sledding hill at full speed. Looking back on it, we may have been secretly trying to kill you...but ignore that.

We gave you an incredible amount of crap while you were growing up. You were always the odd one out. You had to play fairies, dolls, and dress up, but you always did it like a champ. You went to every dance recital and concert, even when they were on your birthday, and you cheered us on in the way only little brothers can.

Now that I’m in college and I don’t see your face every day, I miss you. I miss the way that you click your tongue and make other strange, impossibly loud noises all the time. I miss you and the dogs playing on the living room floor. I miss being around for your hilarious one-liners and the inside jokes that are growing without me.

I also worry about you. I worry about you becoming a “real person” without me there to give you advice on which teachers will be hard on you or tell you about social injustices and the privilege you have. I worry about you becoming like one of those boys who bullied me in high school. I worry about how the world will tell you that it’s not okay for you to feel emotional. I worry about how you might feel like you can’t sing because you have to be the masculine one.

I want to tell you that it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to sing at the top of your lungs. It’s okay to love anyone and everyone. It’s okay to love yourself. It’s okay to get the lead in the school musical and play sports. It’s okay to be authentic. It’s okay to be imperfect.

You can break down and fall apart. If you do, I will be there. I will help you pick up and find a way to move forward. I will always be there for you, no matter how far away I live. I will always be your big sister.

I wish only the best for you. I look forward to everything you will become. I love you more than you know.

Be well, do good things, and call me once in awhile you booger.

~ Your Favourite Big Sister