To me you are otter pops. You are the little plastic tops of the wrappers littering the house.
You are paper airplanes.
You are laughing. You and you alone, can make me snort.
You are listening to your absence of a laugh. The one where all you do is breath out of your nose and smile really big.
You are rope tricks at Lybbert’s Pond.
You are cups of dry cereal and popping ankles.
You are a monotone voice that is always raised. We have to remind you, “We are right here Ty. Talk quieter.”
You are a compliment in the morning while I am doing my hair.
You are obnoxious. Delightfully so.
You are physical contact. Personal space means nothing to you.
You are squirmy. You can’t sit still. And you have a lot of sharp edges on your body. Not a great mixture when we are crowded in the backseat together for any extended period of time.
You are a phone call where I can’t hang up because you make me feel guilty. Secretly I like it when you wouldn’t let me hang up.
You are being included with your friends in high school. You would let me play cards with you, and because I was good, you even wanted me on your team.
You are the brown truck and learning how to drive stick shift. I recall yelling.
You are the 6 a.m. alarm clock saying, “Come play!” (When you are 18).
You are bitten nails and crusty cuticles.
You are running around the house five times, at Mom’s command, to settle you down to our energy level.
You are the brother who didn’t know his own strength until you would give us bruises. Sometimes, when I was little, I would use Mom’s MaryKay samples to make fake bruises…just to get you into trouble.
You are, “Pressure point, pressure point!”
You are Ty the Tiger.
You are uncontrollably crying when we said goodbye the day you left for your mission. I was still crying at work.
You are e-mails that scream your personality and make me say, “What a punk” out loud when I am done reading them.
You are my best friend (tied with the rest of the family of course). I’m excited to see you today.
I love you. Happy Birthday.