To my youngest brother, 9 of 9

Oh, the prayers I’ve prayed for you, sweet brother of mine.

When people ask me what the best thing to ever happened to me was, your smile is often the cover photo of the collage that flashes through my mind.

God doesn’t give me many days empty of you and every time I think about that, I’m reminded how much He must love me to to be giving me gifts like you.

You don’t even know the ways you are loved yet, but I hope when you find out, you take it all in with complete joy until you can barely hold back that growing little laugh of yours.

I hope that as you get older, you don’t see yourself as a small deal just because you were always seen as the smallest of us. You are not the smallest. You just became great in much less time than I did. 

I am a big fan of yours. A fan of your jokes, your dreams, your dance moves, your po-go stick advice; I am a fan of the way you always say you hate to cuddle right before you silently snuggle your way into every gap in me and gently lay your fuzzy blanket over us, double checking to make sure that even my toes are covered.

You are some of my very first memories of what it means to be  H O M E.

You make me brave. You make me scared too.

I love you.

Your big sister,