Last night I was being super studious (well, sort of) and every time I glanced up from my desk, I would see this plaque my brother gave me years ago. It reads:
"My sister was a playmate
I knew was always near
My sister was a protector
From every hurt or fear
We share a bond of closeness
We know will never end
We're here for one another
My sister, my best friend"
I've cherished this particular gift since the day he gave it to me. My brother is absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, my very best friend. When my parents brought him home from the hospital as a newborn, I wanted to send him back; it was either him or the dog, and my vote was certainly not for the dog!
Through the years, I suppose he grew on me. There was only one other girl in the neighborhood (which, for the record, was and is still one of my good friends), so more times than not, Ben had no other option than to dress up and play my larger-than-life make believe games. No matter what he says, I'm quite convinced he loved it!
As we got older, he went from being my playmate to my very best friend. Sure, we did and still do have our squabbles, but there is not a single thing this side of heaven that would change my love for him. When I'm happy, I want to share it with my brother. When I'm sad, I want my brother there to hug me. When I'm scared, I want my brother close to me. I think you get the drift.
Basically, if you looked "hero" up in the dictionary, my brother's name would be to the right of it. Period.
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