To the baby brother:
Right now, you are 13-years-old. I guess that somehow means you’re like a teenager or something, but you will always be my baby brother.
You always hug me. Every time you see me. Even if it’s only been a few hours, you hug me like I’ve been away for years. I hope you never stop doing that.
I remember when you were young, one time you jumped into a pool and you couldn’t really swim. Dad ended up pushing me in because I was thinking too much instead of just jumping in after you. I wish I had not of hesitated then, because now you’re going through life jumping into places where you can’t really swim, but I am hundreds of miles away and, baby brother, I can’t jump in and save you. I’m watching you grow up by texts from mom and snapchat stories, and sometimes I could really use one of your hugs. Baby brother, you strive for attention and approval but A.) if I could open up a calendar of memories and open up each time I brushed you off, delete them like a text message, and replace them with hugs – I would. and B.) I’m already so proud of you that if you were a book, I’d tell all my friends to read it and if you were a movie, I’d memorize every line. You’ll always be my baby brother