B is for Big Brother [An Open Letter]

Dear Brosef,

When we were kids, I thought I hated you and I was fairly confident you hated me too. Why else would you chase me around the house with your eyelids flipped over, laughing your ass off while I ran screaming for the hills? Why else would you force me to go on bike rides with you and when I couldn’t keep up you’d yell at me. Why else would you tie me up and leave me in the back yard?

Remember the summer mom almost got fired because I wouldn’t stop calling her to inform her again and again (and again and again) that you were being an asshole? If she did lose her job, in true little sister fashion I would have taken zero blame for that. On the flip side, I’m sure you can appreciate the number of times I took the rap for you. From your 9-1-1 call, to the scratched cars when you tried to help get my bike out of the garage.

There was that one summer we seemed to really get along – the year mom got us both pool passes so we could get into the city pool all summer long. Thank you for making me an egg sandwich everyday between morning and afternoon bike trips to the pool. Why were we so chubby? We absolutely should have lost weight that summer.

Eventually you acquired mom’s side of the family genes and randomly grew two feet taller, thinning out;  Jenhefer, as you liked to call me, kept enjoying desert and didn’t grow at all. I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you congratulations for that – really happy for you. I’m probably counting calories as you read this… some people have to do that shit. I think that was also the summer I yelled at you when I found cigarettes in your room,the emotion was real. I think that might have been when I realized I didn’t hate you after all – ironically I was concerned for your health or something.

Going into high school,  you were a senior and I was a freshman. Weird shit happened that year. From the awkward romance I had with your buddy Steve, giving me the opportunity to hang out with your group of friends for a month, to the guy you had to shove up against a locker for saying inappropriate things to me. That might have been when I realized you didn’t hate me either. You eventually got me back for the whole Steve thing by dating more than one of my friends… oh wait, that was my best friend.

As we got older, slowly we turned into each others confidants. You were the first person I told about my pregnancy and you responded pretty much exactly how I anticipated…

PREGNANT?! No. You can’t be pregnant. Nope.

Nowadays, there is much more common ground. We both like to talk on the phone while sipping alcoholic beverages not realizing a few hours have passed and low-and-behold, we’re wasted by the time the call ends. Comparing our thrift store finds, we both find joy in minimalist ideology. You actually danced at my wedding and it was fun – David, Dancing & Fun: three words I never thought would be lumped together. Most importantly, we stick to our motto of, We High Five Around Here.

Thank you for being my big brother, protector and friend. 


Your Little Sister, JenHefer

 A-Z Writing Challenge: Day Two

9 thoughts on “B is for Big Brother [An Open Letter]

  1. Love your letter, Jen. I always thought you guys were little angels. Lol. Isn’t it great we can all laugh about it now!

    Sent from my iPad



  2. Oh, this is awesome! (Once I got past the skeeve factor of the flipped eyelid memory…I guess everybody knew somebody who did that..ew!)


  3. I hope he sees this! Fun stuff. I hope my kids are like this when they are adults. Right now, they fight non-stop – soon to be 14 years old and 12. Ugh. I only see this increasing in the next couple of years.



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