For example: I know that even though I wasn't born there, I am as Southern as a girl can get. I know things like sweet tea, "ya'll," flip-flops, pearls, big hair, Southern drawls, seafood, small towns, porches and porch swings and rockin' chairs. I know how to drink out of Mason jars and will continue my quest for the perfect handled Mason jar mug and then buy a hundred of them so that I never run out.
I know that my absence from the South is temporary.
I also have always known that my brother would get married before I did.
My brother is that type of person. Trusting, nurturing, loving. Patient, even-tempered. Calm. He is everything I am not. About as nurturing and loving as I get is with my pets. I am certainly not "even-tempered" or calm. I have my father's fiery Cajun temperment and I believe the first adjective most people give when describing me is "sassy." Ya'll, I got a MOUTH on me.
But I love my brother because he is everything I always wanted to be. And everything I know I never will be. Because let's face it: I'm pretty settled in my ways.
I am writing this after having spoken to him this morning (for him, this evening for me - 12 hour time difference). I won't post until I wake up and the news has hit facebook. He's proposing tonight and I want to remember how I felt at this particular moment knowing his new journey will take him away from us but bring him so much joy and that he will never truly be that far away because he's our boy.
I would not trade us for any other person in the world though, because we grew up together and now I will have the honor and the priviledge of watching him marry the girl he dreamed of and the girl we could only have hoped he would one day find.
We could not be prouder of or happier for the two of them.
I am a selfish person. I am also rubbish with words in person. Or on Skype, or whatever. Believe it, don't believe it. It doesn't matter. It's a truth. What I want to say never seems to come out the way I want it to. Ever.
So here's another go for my little brother:
Dear Quentin,
You've been my brother for almost 25 years. We took baths together when we were little and I slapped you in the face with a wet washcloth. I dressed you in my dresses and my patent leather shoes. We played in moving boxes and you bit me so hard I screamed (I probably deserved it.) You played ball with our great-grandmother's heirloom tree topper (hopefully not the same year I stepped on the German hand blown glass ornament). I'll never forget you singing in your underwear with your little red guitar in your room at the house on Rosedown, "Rainin' on my Sunshine Train." I watched you play soccer and you watched me dance. We got told "secrets." We shot guns together, we fished together, we churched together. We went to school together. The scariest moment of my life (aside from my car wreck) was the day you were so so so sick at LSU and I had no idea how to make you feel better. Waking up when I was 11 and you were 9 to a brand new baby sister. Countless beach vacations, Disney vacations, proms, movie nights at the house on Sherry.
I've rarely been the best big sister and for that I apologize. My intentions weren't always bad... ; ) I'm proud of you and all that you have accomplished. Our paths in this maze of life could not be more different, but you will always be my only little brother.
One day I will get to tell your children all the awesome stories I know about you. I cannot wait for that moment and I know that one day we'll be like Mom and Wick and Keeney. Laughing for hours over the same stories because they're our's and they never get old.
Until then, remember, "You're the only one I've ever believed in..."
Love,
Alex
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