One day, I woke up in a silent house. A house that was no longer filled with the chaos of my siblings fighting for the TV remote, who gets to take a shower first or rushing to get to school on time. I woke up to a house that was empty, where the silence felt piercing to my ears. The absence of my siblings made my house a new space, a space that wasn’t what it used to be. A house that wasn’t a home. 

   For most of my life, I had wished for an older sister. I wished for a sister who would share similar interests with me, since I was always tagging along with whatever my brothers did. I was tired of the never-ending hockey games and my brothers’ friends at family dinners. I wanted a sister who would fill our house with ballet, dress-up and all the pink things a little girl would want. I watched my friends’ older sisters share their clothes and teach them how to do their makeup. Meanwhile, I was taught how to play video games and throw a “good punch.” From a young age, I did everything I could to keep up with my brothers. Whatever they did, I followed. Whenever they played basketball in our backyard, I was sitting on the sidelines watching, enjoying the company. I was used to this routine and the constant hustle of keeping up with my two older brothers. 

   While I always thought I was tagging along with them, unacknowledged and forced to do what they wanted, I never realized the countless times they were protecting me and making sure I was never alone. When I thought I was walking behind them unacknowledged and following what they did, I never realized that they were looking back, making sure I was okay. However, these small instances in my life are overlooked because I became used to the fact that I would always have two older brothers who were there for me. Even though we spent most of our time bickering and fighting for stupid reasons, the three of us have an unspoken bond. We may never hug each other or say anything nice about each other, but I know that they will always be looking back, making sure I am still tagging along. 

   Now they are both off at college, and I am stuck at home, with all the nostalgia of the childhood we once had. While my brothers got to grow up with siblings at home and a constantly full house, I feel like my childhood got cut short. My oldest brother left for college when I was in seventh grade, and my other brother left for boarding school the same year. Suddenly, I went from having a constantly loud and full household to the eerie silence of being the last kid at home. The emotions hit me all at once. I used to complain about my brothers and was excited for the day that they would move out. It would be less chaotic, more peaceful. However, the minute they left, I began to miss the nights when we would eat dinner together, or wake up early on the weekends to sit on the couch and watch our favorite shows. 

   I hate the fact that I will be the last to leave the house, and I’m the one who will never fully get to experience a childhood with all my siblings. I used to dread the chaotic mornings where I would wake up in a constant hustle, but once I woke up in a house that was quiet, I could only wish to have my brothers at home again.