I was angry a lot. Angry because I was tired of hearing, “You are going to be such a great big sister!” It almost felt like a betrayal that my parents spent most of their time with this smelly, annoying, queasy baby. I thought when I prayed to have someone to play with, I would get someone my age. 

Needless to say, I was disappointed at the arrival of my brother. 

However, as we grew up, that queasy baby became my best friend. 

My little brother’s name is Matthew, but it always feels so strange to call him that. My earliest memory of him is his inability to say his first name. He pronounced his name “Mamoo” and it has stuck ever since.

Mamoo followed everything I did from a young age. He looked up to me and watching me play soccer inspired him to play too, eventually becoming a bonding activity. Watching him improve as a player over the years has made me a proud big sister. He has become a great goalie and an amazing teammate. When he does not have a game to play, we wake up early on weekends to cheer on our favorite team: Manchester City.

Our favorite band is Twenty One Pilots, and when our parents gifted me tickets to the Clancy tour for my birthday, he was just as excited. To this day, one of my favorite memories of us is attending that concert. Standing with my brother as we both sang along to the same songs, with an equally excited passion, was a perfect moment that I will never forget. 

Mamoo’s probably the coolest person I know. He understands me like no one else does and when I need a break from life, he gives me a safe place to be myself. We have the same weird sense of humor, same favorite band, same shirt size (I already plan on stealing his jerseys once he outgrows them) and there is never a dull moment for me when he is around.