The Day I Became a Big Sister at Twenty-Five

My mom had a baby this year. I'm twenty-five. Yes, everyone asks.

I was nervous about it. I didn't know what kind of sister I'd be to someone I could babysit. But the first time I held him, three days old, in his little striped hat, he grabbed my finger with his entire hand and wouldn't let go.

I visit every weekend now. I take him on walks in his stroller, and people assume he's mine, and I don't correct them because it's too complicated. I sing him the songs my mom sang to me when I was a baby. He smiles at me like I'm the funniest person in the world.

My mom says he lights up when he hears my voice. I didn't expect to fall in love with my brother. But I did, completely, on day three.