Did I say I had something planned for Monday? Aw, shit: it's Wednesday.

My brother turned 21 Monday. 21.

My little brother, who I remember feeling kick my mother from the inside. My little brother, who was bright red & looked downright pissed at birth. My little brother, whom I was sad was a brother in the first place, when I found out I wasn't having a little sister (damn it). My little brother, who was so serious in his infancy, who I worked doubletime for, trying to crack a smile on his sweet little face.

This full grown man used to only quiet down when I held him with his little face towards the ground. Who used to sneak in my bed as a toddler, pulling all my stuffed animals with him, and snuggle up next to me. Who laughed hysterically when he put a live fish in the pool with me and I went batshit crazy trying to get out. Who hung my bras on the ceiling fan in the living room, who tortured me and my friends as a pre-schooler, who squacked at me when I practiced my clarinet (but then took band and played the same instrument in middle school), who stole my clothes and this one pair of boys' shoes I had, who shared the bathroom with me.

This full grown man, who walked home alone from school before he should have. Who stayed home alone when he shouldn't have. Who lost his mom and 5 goldfish in the same week when our mom left. Who was so brave and grown up long before he needed to be. Who went out on his own, did well, stumbled, fell, got back up, and keeps going, even though it's difficult, a beatdown, and downright sucks to be an adult sometimes.

I've always adored this guy. Always. He is a pain in my ass. He is hardheaded, stubborn, short-tempered, selfish, and so, just, UGH, OMG, YOU ARE SO DAMN STUBBORN SOMETIMES!!!, but also?

He is funny, silly, laugh till I cry hilarious. He is strong, he is smart. He is the one that will go water balloon bombing with me, driving around the neighborhood. He is the one that will wrestle me, tickle me, and pick me up as if I am light as a feather. He is my girl's 'Monkey Matt'. He is kind-hearted, sensitive, and sweet, underneath all that hard-headed asshatness. He is protective, even when he's having a cooking utensil fight with you.

Although I am the older one, I adore him. I look up to him. I am so fiercely protective of him. Myself, my sister, and my mother-we always want to be with him; we smother him. We drive him batshit crazy.

It is hard for anyone else to see the preschooler I adored in this 6 foot tall man. But I see him.

I am so thankful to have him as my brother. My life could not be the same without him.

Happy 21st, Matt-u.