To my favourite twenty-something

Wait.

Is Solange in her twenties … 30? Oh great.

In that case, with Solange Knowles my new patron saint of snatching emotional edges, firmly out of my millennial top spot,

I can now reveal *drumroll please* that my – not so – little brother is, in fact, my favourite twenty-something. And he turns 23 today!

To those closest to me who’ve seen the largest part of this our familial, not really much of a choice, tightly knit bond, this won’t come as much of a surprise but for the rest of you here’s why my brother is truly my favourite.

For as many times as he clung to me like a fart as a toddler, struggling to pronounce my name, to beating me so easily when we had that one basketball and we’d try to reach the longest count of consecutive bounces; For as many times as he was so scared whenever I donned my mother’s hairnet as a face mask and ran around the house chasing him as a big bad scary monster; For as many times as he asked me ‘when is mummy coming back’ for that entire year my mother lived abroad without her bundles of joy; For as many times as he refused to talk back to our parents and I had to put on my advocate’s hat; For as many times as he let me become the little sister despite being the older sister.

As it turns out my – not so – little brother is effectively my oldest friend, my most loyal friend and my in so many ways life-saver friend. I wouldn’t really be the me that I love without some of my happiest memories and most are with my – not so – little brother.

Happy Birthday, Twerp!

 

 

n.b. even though this is a post exclusively dedicated to my brother, it’d be a complete loss to you to not introduce you to Solange Knowles in a deep and emotional way, so here’s a thing she wrote that was good, in-fact great, in-fact saintly.

 

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