When I was younger I would beat the living daylights out of my little brother. Seriously. I mean it. It was fighting for our lives. Survival of the fittest. Once, our parents made this mistake of leaving us home alone for a week with sisters who worked most of the day. Home alone? We sported bruises and missing clumps of hair for weeks to come.

In short. I spent most of my childhood with Fredd incurring pain upon him. We did have a bit of fun together. We had a couple of cool playhouses. We rode bikes together. We rebelled against the older siblings. And then he grew up. Like, a foot taller than me. And suddenly I was the one reminding him "you never hit a lady" and other such helpful rules I had conviently forgotten.

And then there was the whole "I'm Too Cool For Little Brothers Stage" where I ignored him and let him fend for himself. There isn't a moment of that stage I wish I couldn't take back. I did beat up and slap around my fair share of guys who picked on him, but I wish I did it every time. I wish I was a better older sister. I wish I hadn't spent so much time being frustrated because he was smart and I didn't understand what he was saying.

People used to say "You'll see. One day you'll be best of friends with your brother." And I never believed them. Paticularly the moment when he answered to the door to one of my dates with a shotgun. Seriously? No. Not happening.

But it did happen. I love that kid. He makes me beam with pride whenever I talk about him. Which is to pretty much everyone. He's funny. Smart. Kind. He influences more people than he'll ever understand. Honestly? I'd rather take him to the movies than a date. He keeps hilarious commentary with me. Instead of shushing me. He does crazy outlandish things with me. He rolls his eyes and pats me on the head when I say something paticularly stupid. He lets me rip his fanstastic music collection. He comes over before school and says things like "You look beautiful this morning!" He picks up a cd he'll think I might like. He comes over and visits his spinsterly sisters on a Friday night instead of partying with all the kids. He drinks tea with us and plays cards. He makes me incredibly grateful.

And I'm sad. Because he leaves in a month. And I'll have no more Fredd. He'll be far away. And he's grown up. And that makes me cry. Because it'll never be the same. I'm sure it will be good. He'll come back and be the fabulously handsome brother with the glamorous life. But it will never be the same. Because I'll never have anything to offer him. And while he's still here. I'm kind of a cool sister.

I'll miss that. And him.