“They grow up so fast.”
It’s a common phrase adults often use to describe seeing their kids grow in a blink. The way a baby grows into a five year old and how that five year old graduates high school in mere seconds.
I’m not a parent, but I am a big sister.
In four short years, my two brothers have slipped through my fingers.
My first brother — who I often took under my wing to protect — graduated high school, became a school para, moved out of our childhood home and jumpstarted a career in education all before turning twenty.
My youngest – who I still picture as a brown-haired toddler with a two-teeth smile and first-birthday cake on his face — flew to 16 and six foot three, playing a handful of high school sports and already thinking about college.
Time kept its pace before I left home. Now, I don’t feel like I can grasp it fast enough. And there’s a bittersweet feeling that comes along with this rapid passing of time.
On one hand, it’s pleasant to see the good and growth that came out of all those years of fulfilling my sisterly duties (bossing them around). No, but really, it’s sweet so see how they’ve managed to come into their own over time and how they’re still trying to grasp who they are.
On the other hand, I find myself realizing that we’re all getting older. I’m not the only one that turns a year older every 365 days.
I turned 22; they will soon turn 20 and 17. Soon enough, I will turn 23, and they will become 21 and 18.
There’s a tug at my heartstrings thinking about them getting older. My brothers are my ‘kids’ — even if that was only ever true in our games of house.
I read them books, I taught them how to do math. I showed them how to do cartwheels after dance class, and, sometimes, I let them win at Mario Kart on the Wii so they wouldn’t be upset. They were my baby brothers. And I was their big sister.
And now my baby brothers aren’t babies anymore. And more and more I wish I could put a pause on time, keep them right where they are.
Because they do grow up so fast, and that goes for brothers too.
