Let's just say, thank god for social media. Otherwise, I would still be picturing some of you with your dorky glasses, or braces and badly dyed hair. Now I get to see (sort of) the type of person you've become.

I just want to say, I'm sorry I couldn't be there. I'm sorry I wasn't there the first time a partner made you cry. I'm sorry I missed your prom and first job interview. I'm sorry I didn't get to see your horrible first attempt at driving (mine involved driving over two cement parking blocks), and I'm sorry I didn't get to help you move out of the old neighborhood, and help you reminiscence like you did with me.

I'm sorry I missed the teen years. How did the small town life treat you? Was it as bad as some made it out to be? Did neighbors have your back and did you get to keep the kids you knew since kindergarten? I hope you got to go to those crazy bonfires we used to dream about. The ones where they would have glow sticks and burn other schools mascots. We used to think we would be on top of the world! Did you ever get a taste of it?

My mom jokes that we were troublesome kids. We hid in forts during the cold winter months, ran around barefoot in the summer. Chased down cops for their little cop baseball cards. Some even played with fire a time or two. We used to tromp to my mom's door with skinned knees, and she would line us up one by one and pour hydrogen peroxide on it before sending us on our merry way, only to find that later that week the whole neighborhood would be brawling on the playground on account of one kid getting picked on.

Hmm... mentioning most of that, I guess I can see where she's coming from. But I digress. We weren't troubled, we just were ready to take the world, helmet on.

You guys taught me what it was to stand up for people. That sometimes the world sucked, and it was ok to fight it. You taught me how to ride my bike, and helped me with my science and social studies. I knew what it meant early on to love people who weren't related to you, I learned how to become an older sibling from you, because I learned early on how to love.

For us it didn't matter where we came from. All that mattered was what we would be doing that day. I guess we were the original Phineas and Ferb, huh? Granted, we never actually built a roller coaster. (We just made one by strapping each other to objects and pushing each other downhill) But we were still pretty ingenious. Who else would think to steal hammer and nails from the next door neighbor and build our own bike ramps? Who else would come up with little slogans, and have Kool-Aid stands? Or make a trail through the trees that would take us through everyone's backyard? It sure wasn't the adults.

I wish you could see the person I became. I'm not scared of heights anymore (that much), and my stubbornness isn't as bad. Now I can admit to when I'm wrong (sometimes), and I know how important friends that become your family are.

I'm glad that I can see what you look like now, and when I come home to visit most of us can still pick right back up from where we stopped. We don't know each other anymore, but that doesn't really matter. We still have the same basic structure, the same roots to the ever growing forest. You'll always be my family, no matter what you go through, no matter what you do, or feel. Distance doesn't matter, I promise. I will always be here if you need me.