It’s April 2013. I can’t remember the exact day but all I know is that it was one of the worst days. My older brother, the one I pretty much grew up without, the one I felt like I didn’t actually know, the one that spent most of the day sleeping, and was up at night when no one else was, the one that use to be the mean older brother when I was a kid, was now leaving. I had an argument with him the second before he walked out the door. What was it about? I don’t remember now. I hope he doesn’t either. I just know it was stupid and I wish I could change it. I feel my eyes get watery as I watch him walk out the door.
2 years later. Exactly 2 years later. April 2015. I am with my younger brother and sister, about to board a plane. Let me mention that this is the first plane I’ve ever been on and yes I am terrified, yet excited. 3 maybe 4 hours later I’m getting of off the plane waiting for my siblings to find their bags. I look over and catch a glimpse of my older brother, at least I think it’s him, I hope it’s him. The doors shut, so I couldn’t make sure it was him. He’s the one I hadn’t seen in 2 years. I hold back tears because I didn’t want him to say I was a “punk” crying. But I can tell he’s holding them back as well. He can’t cry though. We’re standing in the middle of a huge crowd. We hug and walk out to find the car to drive an hour from the airport to his house. This was the day I had been waiting 2 years for and I can honestly say this was the happiest day of my life.