Today my youngest brother, Justin, turns 26 years old. While I don't focus on my age all that much because I think age is a state of mind, I'll admit that thinking about how old he is makes me realize exactly how old I am, which sometimes is a little surreal.
Justin is adopted, and my parents brought him home when he was less than a week old. This was during my sophomore year of high school (apparently 26 years ago!) and I was 15 years old. My mother had given birth to a baby the year before, Garrett, who died of SIDS when he was six weeks old, so my parents decided to adopt a baby the following year.
I remember my mother called my siblings and I into the family room to tell us that they would be picking up the baby from Vermont later in the week, and we came up with a name for him. (Justin was my idea.) We weren't allowed to say anything to anyone (I get my superstitiousness from someone, after all) in the hopes it didn't fall through, so it was a surprise when I told my friends the following Monday about my new baby brother!
Although I left home two years after he was born, it was fun to come home and see him growing. I used to take him to the movies a lot as he got a little older, and we saw some really horrible ones—The Jetsons, Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls, Home Alone 3, etc. It was always interesting keeping him in his seat to actually watch the movie, when all he wanted to do was buy more candy, but what makes me happy is that Justin mentioned that he still remembers going to the movies with me.
So, even though it makes me feel super old, happy birthday, Squirt!
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