College Essay: Having a Younger Sibling

Having a younger sibling is in itself an experience. Growing up with my brother, Logan, who is 3 years younger than me has been one of those experiences. Having a brother has definitely defined me and shaped the way I see the world. I learned about being loved and how you can love someone even if they drive you crazy. I learned teamwork and cooperation, which by the way is a really useful skill to have especially when we needed to work together to fix something quick before we got in trouble. For as much as I learned from my brother, Logan, having a brother 10 years younger has shaped me in ways I never could have imagined. In fact, it is so meaningful and a vital ingredient to the recipe of, “who am I” that I have to write about it now.

 “Violent storm” is what I said on June 9, 2008 when my Mom and Dad came home from the hospital with my little brother, Tristan. No, Tristan was not a violent storm; he was cute as could be. The violent storm was a real storm, with hurricane like winds that knocked over power lines and trees. That was the storm that took place on the day my brother, Tristan came home. But from the moment he arrived in the house, everything was calm.  He completely stole my heart. Even at 10 years old, I created a bond with this tiny little baby that most people don't get to experience until they are much older. It's been over 7 years since Tristan was born, and I couldn’t imagine how I would have grown up without him.  He has taught me about responsibility. Having an infant in your life means watching your parents endlessly change diapers, make bottles, and wipe spit-up. Every once in a while, I was allowed to do those things (under my mom’s watchful eye), and I learned just how important it was to take care of him. Needless to say, I was an excellent babysitter. Thus, the caretaker in me evolves.

I got to raise a child. I got to watch a child grow up. I remember the first time Tristan crawled, walked, and said my name. I remember how excited my family was taking him to his first day of kindergarten. I'll never forget telling him bedtime stories before he went to sleep at night, and I especially won't forget when he was the one reading me a bedtime story. I'm watching this tiny baby grow up into a man — well, more like a big kid — but you get the picture. It's cool to think about how I have been a part of his whole life.