When you were a baby, I was your favorite. Only I could read you stories. Only I could comfort when fear and sadness betook your little soul. Only I could wipe away your tears.
We shared a room. You in your crib, me in my bed. Often, though, you would end up snuggled next to me in my bed. I cherished those moments.
Alden, during the turmoil of my teenage years you made me smile. You brought me blossoms of joy, nestled sweetly in a vase of love. The bright, red petals smelled sweetly of delight–the feeling I felt when you kissed my cheek or gave me a hug. The long, strong stems held the delicate flowers–much like you, in all your innocence, held my delicate spirit. This joy, thankfully, never wilted. It continued to brighten my many dark moments.
One day, it was time for you to move in with your brothers. It was time for you to grow and become independent.
That was a sad, dark day. You cried and cried, pounding your little fists against the door.
Unfortunately, I was a self-absorbed teenager.
I am glad you forgave me. I am honored that you still consider me your favorite sister.
You inspire me. You, with your many, many struggles exert extraordinary amounts of effort in school. I know–I see–how much you fight. In my eyes, you win. Everyday.
Even though your war against Asperger’s is ongoing (and one that, unfortunately, will yield no permanent victory), you do not let it wear you down. You are courageous.
Dear brother, you are now on the threshold of your teenage years. You have so much to look forward to.
You make me proud to be your older sister.
As you keep fighting, know that I am by your side.