I’m not even sure you will be able to read this, but I’ll write it anyway.
I was ten when I badly wished for a little sister. And then one day mom told me she was pregnant. I was beyond excited. I prayed every night, before going to sleep, for a little sister. A day just before my birthday, you were born. Five pounds, six ounces. I remember waiting outside of our little apartment, by the gate, welcoming you home.
We may fight a lot, and I usually bully you a lot, and you always give me that mataray look even if you’re ten years younger than I am. You are my complete opposite: you’re dark, I’m fair; your hair is black and straight, mine is brown and wavy; you’re thin, and I’m a bit on the chubby side; you’re good in math, while I’m attracted to science. Nevertheless, at the end of the day, you’re still my little sister and I love you.
Here’s to more kisses and hugs, fights and quarrels, and loving each other.