From the Editor
I’ll admit that sometimes I can’t remember how old my brother and sister are. Or what grade they are in off the top of my head. Does this make me a terrible older sister? Slightly. To be fair, they are incredibly annoying, but like anyone who has siblings, they’re annoying in their own loving ways. For example, dear, sweet brother, fold the clothes that are already in the dryer if you’re going to do your laundry. Please. And my innocent, cute, little sister, you have been in the living room doing nothing the entire morning, but the minute I want to make food in the kitchen, you want to make food in the kitchen. Stop it.
Despite all of that, there’s just something special about those moments, you know, the love/hate relationship that bonds you and your siblings together that you can appreciate, laugh, and reminisce about as you grow old together. One thing in particular I know I’ll always look back on is how me, my brother, my sister, my mom, and occasionally my dad, would all find ourselves in my parent’s bedroom talking for hours. About nothing, really, but it’s a riot and it happens every time I come home and I look forward to it every time.
My siblings and I are all four years apart and the more we get older, the more I realize that we’re getting pretty distant. Distant in the way that I’m seeing how independent they’re becoming and every time I go see them, something always changes: they’ve gotten taller, they’ve picked up new hobbies, and sometimes it feels like ever since I went to college, I’ve just been watching snapshots of their life. And to combat that, I start to think about how much I’m looking forward to when me and my siblings are older, but then I realize that I will just be old and then I hate every second about that.
I don’t really have a point to this column other than telling myself and convincing you, maybe, to spend more time with your siblings. I don’t know about you but while I absolutely loathe it now, I actually like when we’re in the kitchen cooking together Jimmy and… no I can’t…fold the fucking clothes from the dryer Jafar.