Just a few hours ago, I watched my
younger little brother graduate from high-school, a day which has probably seemed a long time coming for him, but that feels so sudden to me.
Watching him walk down the aisle to receive his diploma, I almost cried, and now all I can seem to think about is the picture I have on my wall of a 13-year-old boy posing (for hours, I might add) so that I could get a good portrait ("Try to look sadder. Like your puppy ran away!") for my high-school photography class.
Our entire lives, we've been so close, to the point of almost never fighting. When we did, we had no idea how to - at least not the way that most siblings did. It was as though we'd been dropped into warfare with no knowledge of how to battle; as soon as we hit a nerve, we dropped our weapons. Where most siblings fought over who controlled the remote, we usually ended up talking rather than even watching the TV; even when we did, we agreed on a show.
I can't believe how quickly it all went, and in a few months he'll be starting college.