One of my earliest memories was from when I was 3-years-old and my brother tried to return me to Costco. Since the moment my parents brought me home, my brother wished I were a boy; he would beg our mom to ask for a little brother, and when she said no, he declared he was going to turn me into a boy.
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When I grew up and loved dancing and Barbie dolls, he wasn’t too pleased. And instead, he would drag me to our kitchen, lifting me onto the countertops so I could grab the caution tape my mom hid from us on the top shelf. He would pull out drawers and tape up the hallways, creating an obstacle course. We’d spend hours running around the obstacles, Nerf blaster in hand, trying to shoot each other. Every weekend, he would bring me to the park and teach me how to play basketball. We’d spend hours on the driveway doing crossovers and sprints.
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And as we grew up and apart, we always had basketball. Before anyone else, he was the first one to push me–he was the little boy who yelled at me to run faster, and the teenager spotting me at the gym. It’s only now, as he’s entering his senior year of high school, that I’ve realized that there’s no one else in my life who will have as much of a positive impact on me as him.
​As we both grew up, we began to see each other less and less; he became almost like a stranger to me. I couldn’t tell you what his favorite color was, and he couldn’t tell you what mine is. But deep down, he was always there for me. When I was scared the night before basketball tryouts, he stood outside with me at 10 p.m., rebounding for me and supporting me with words of encouragement until our neighbours came to scold us.
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This all changed during junior year, when he got his driver’s license —a day we had fantasized about since we were kids. That year, he began taking me to every practice and game, cheering from the sidelines. No matter what, he was always my biggest supporter, guiding me through every step. As he entered his senior year, we ended up in the same AP Chemistry class together. Our bond grew as I sat next to him, in a table group with his friends. It was yet another reminder of how he always takes care of me, whether by choice or instinct, he has always had my back.
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As he prepares to leave for college, I’m thankful for our 15 years of living together, and I recognize there’s never going to be anyone that I’ll have a bond like this with. I’ll cherish every midnight Baja Blast run, study sessions, and basketball game. So thank you to the person who’s loved and cared for me since the moment he realized he can’t return babies to Costco.