How cheesy is it to ask where has the time gone? I suppose a lot. But you've known me for most of my life—I'm full of cheese, and there's a reason why that question flies out of people's mouths like a hallelujah in church.

Think about this for a second. 6- and 7-year-old us could not have imagined an "us" that would be so old. I still remember us acting like we were spy kids, thinking we were so discreet in spelling out the game S-P-Y like the parents couldn't spell or see us hiding behind the couches. I remember us catching rolly polly's in overflowing bug boxes in the backyard, and us keeping each other company even if it was spent in silent understanding. I remember always having a partner in crime, even if that meant wrestling instead of creating dance routines and you failing to teach me how to skateboard.

Fast forward a decade, and I see you've grown so much. I know now why people say "your brother's grown into such the handsome young man!" People are always growing and if they're lucky, getting older. See? I'm not completely stupid (though occasionally you'd like to argue otherwise), but recently those facts have hit me much harder than I thought they would. You were exactly where I was two years ago. A high school graduate, going into the blissful summer right before college, and that time in my life feels like yesterday to me. And now you're there. I felt so mature at that age, so it's hard for me to comprehend you're at that stage now too.

Now you call me at 1 a.m. for rides back home, and when we get back there's whispered late-night conversations for fear of waking the parents. Now when we wrestle, I never win, and it usually ends in a couple bruises here and there. Now when I complain about a boy, you offer to set him straight with you and your friend posse because you want to get in one fight before you graduate "just because." I wouldn't let you though, I don't think I could ever want something bad to happen to you. Because I'm constantly caught between thinking of you as a son and a sibling and a friend. You're all three. You're my little baby brother and there's no way you'll ever escape that. Even when you're 90.

Because to me, you're still the little boy with a squeaky voice who would get irritated with me if I looked out his car window, you're still the brother who loves to create things with his hands and made me and every single person I knew a duct tape wallet. You're still the brother who gets on my nerves, and me on yours, whenever we can, but at the end of the day an insult will be followed up with an I love you.

Because it's true. We're family. You're stuck with me.

So congratulations! On having a permanent awesome sister for life, and for graduating high school like an absolute baller with stellar grades. You're just starting this crazy awesome journey we call our lives, and I couldn't be more happy and proud to watch yours unfold.

I love you always.

Oh, and side note: I will drive all the way up to Nor Cal if you need me, anything at all. I only promise not to embarrass you all the time.