*More people are joining in on the letter writing! Check out Tiffany's letter's here, Sierra's here, and Kathy's here. Also, let Rachel know she should be doing this too.
Dear Little Siblings,
First of all, how dare you ALL be taller than me. Especially 12 year-old Jorian. It's not funny. I'm the oldest, the shortest, and according to you all, the most boring. I wear those labels with pride. Because I'm related to you, I carry every label you give me with pride.
I don't remember life before you. You were born 14 months after I was, so I have no memory of you not being part of me. I've always been very aware that I was your big sister. When I found out there wasn't a Santa Claus, I did everything I could to protect you from knowing for as long as possible. When I found out about our dad, I kept that from you for a long time too. I'm sorry I told you why he was in prison in a moment of anger instead of in a moment of love. I always wanted to protect you. You always nurtured me. Making me alphabet soup when I was sick or literally carrying me when I broke my foot. Surprising you at your job, or waking you up (in the middle of the day) to hug and kiss you are always highlights of my time at home. I haven't always been good to you. I won't lie and say that I've always tried. But I'm still your big sister. And I never stopped loving you. Not even for a little while. Not even a little bit.
I love to tell people about when you were younger and couldn't pronounce my name or "sister" so you called me "Stuster". I love to tell people about how R.C. and I would make you wear grandma's wig, choreograph a performance, and make you pretend to be a little black Shirley Temple. I love the time you asked, "Why did the chicken cross the road?" and when given the proper response, offered the punchline, "To get some fruit." I love that you tried color guard even though it wasn't really your thing because you knew it would make me happy. I love even more that when you decided it wasn't for you, you didn't let me talk you into it. You are so good at so many things I can barely keep up. I wish I was as fast, as strong, or as good at dancing as you. But I'm not. So I'm happy just to be able to point at you and say, "That's my sister. No, not that one. The pretty one."
I HATE that you're growing up. That's not true. I love that you're alive and thriving. I love how happy you are playing sports, how you naturally lead any group you take part in. My baby is a most definitely a leader. You're a big kid. Gosh, you're so tall and man-like. I love that you're such a big kid with such a good heart. You fight for what you believe in and that makes me SO proud. Each time I come home I worry that this is the time you won't be as excited to see me. Each time I'm wrong. You get excited about my life in a way that most people don't. You inspire me. I wish I was around for more of your life. I'm glad I've got to see your big football game this summer, but I wish I'd been able to go to every game. I wish I had you with me all the time. In a way I do. You're my boober. I'm always going to picture you, not knowing how to walk, and still dancing to "That Thing" by Lauryn Hill.
Love your big (boring) sister,