You only let me have the spotlight for two and a half years of my life.

Your birth has had such a significant impact on my life. I remember being asked in elementary school, “What is the most important day in your life?” to which I always answered, “The day my brother was born.” We did everything together, having silly and fun times. We lived in a neighborhood where we couldn’t necessarily go outside and play with our friends in the street, so we often found ourselves digging for worms in the backyard or playing Wiffleball with Grandpa.

You don’t remember the move to our new house as much as I do, and I know it didn’t affect you nearly as much as it did me. You were in kindergarten which meant you had a chance to start fresh as the new kid, while I entered second grade where everyone had already made friends. Going to the same school made everything a lot easier because it meant I could watch over you when Mom couldn’t. I always liked to pretend I was your Mom, which our Mom wasn’t fond of very much. I remember you finally standing up to your bully in third grade and I remember defending your use of hands to the lunch aid. I remember monitoring your second-grade class and I remember being assigned a different class because they found out I was your sister.

We only spent one year of middle school together, which is sad because I still believe it’s when you thought I was the coolest. I remember you shouting “Hi Sam!” in the hallway, to which I’d either wave or nod in that very “cool” nonchalant way. I wish I was nicer to you during this time, because I really needed a friend to get me through eighth grade. I’m sure my teachers put in a good word for all the teachers that you had, but I’m sorry that they expected you to do so much. I know that we are equally as smart but we work at different paces.

Adventure is our middle name — in fact, it’s more yours than mine. I’ve come to appreciate every adventure we’ve ever had together, from parties to bonfires to being part of the marching band. I still believe that forcing you to join marching band was the best thing I’ve done for you. Seeing you play your trumpet in and out of marching band makes me incredibly proud, to a degree that you’ll never truly understand (but I “didn’t” say that, because trumpet players already have big egos). Your passion for music is something that you've had for a long time, from recordings yourself playing bass on Dad’s laptop to scale laps in symphonic band. I’ve loved every minute of it.

There are so many moments I look forward to sharing with you in the future. You were my first best friend and you are still one of my best friends. I can always count on you to have my back when you know Mom is going to kill us and you know that I’ll always reciprocate. You are my partner in crime, but not legitimate crime because then you’re on your own. One day you will be successful in whatever you choose to do, because I know you’re indecisive and that’s okay. The life you lead now and the life you will continue to lead makes me incredibly proud and blessed to be a part of. I love you, Broseph.