It's my brother's birthday today. I remember that he cried every night, and my mom just ignored him for hours at a time while he cried, and I couldn't sleep. He had a weird appendage where his belly button should be, and he smelled funny. He couldn't talk and play, and I thought, "Why does everybody fawn over him so much?"
It's the anniversary of when he took my mommy away, and I didn't get to be the only kid in the family. I had to share my room, my food, my books, my spot in the car.
I've long since forgiven him for all the trouble he caused (and I hope he's forgiven me for being such a booty selfish piece of succotash brother). He's turned out to be one of the best brothers a person could ask for, and I'm glad he's mine. He is thoughtful and kind. He lets me tag along sometimes when he goes golfing. He's been there for me when I needed help.
He's a great guy. I could never hope to even get to hang out with such a cool guy as Andrew if we weren't related. Happy birthday, not-so-little brother! I hope it's been a good one, and I hope we get to enjoy many, many more.
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