The most beautiful person in my life is my younger brother. I miss him every single day, almost as frequently as I am proud of him. As a child I was not the most wondrous elder sibling, but there was not a single thing he didn’t admire about me. He wanted to draw if I was drawing, or watch me, or sing when I was singing. If I was playing dress up, so was Ross, if I wanted to write a story, he wanted me to read it to him. As we grew older he even wanted to watch me play his video game, rather than play it himself. I wish that at this age I had been obliging, not annoyed by him, but kids will be kids.
As we grew, me in angry fits, he in the wisdom of reflection, he was constantly calming me down from raging at my father, reminding me to look at things in perspective, and truly turning me towards a more positive path, though he I’m sure was not quite aware of it at the time. I worry that I ran when he needed me though. When I left to live with my mother, my stepmother turned on my own wonderful sibling as a replacement for her resentment of me.
It is absolutely bizarre to me that he cared about me, even through everything I did wrong. Today he is an amazingly bright and talented young person who studies his art-forms at one of the top universities in the world. I love him more than any other living thing on this earth, he is the secret keeper of my heart and I am truly lucky that I have such a gem of a little brother.