My Brother’s Birthday

When I first left for England, my little brother was nine years old. Today, he’s twelve.

Time flies, doesn’t it? I was 18 and had never left the country alone before, had never been to Europe before, and had never lived on my own before. Here I am on the other side having travelled to Paris twice, once solo, been around England, made lifelong friends, and earned a university degree (nearly).

I knew before I left that there would be a lot I’d miss at home. I made the calculations for how much of my siblings’ lives I’d miss, I weighed the possibilities of losing family members while thousands of miles away, I considered the wedge distance would be between childhood friends and me, but I decided it was all going to be worth it. There have been many things I’ve missed. For a quarter of my brother’s life and a third of his living memory, his oldest sister has been living far, far away.

Here I am, 4 359 miles from my little brother on his 12th birthday. But you know what? Even from here, I can still be a true big sister and post embarrassing photos of him on the internet.

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Happy birthday little brother.

Author: precariouswriter

I live in Calgary, Canada where I was born and raised, but I lived in Winchester, England for three years while in university. When I was fourteen, I decided there weren’t enough books in the world and set out to make more. Since then, I’ve been writing non-stop and aim to work in the book industry. I have two blogs: is my personal blog where I'll write about anything. is book and writing-related posts including reviews, poems, short stories and articles.

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