Back when I was 11,I hated my older brother. We had nothing in common, and nothing was ever going to change that. Or, so I thought.
My brother was 13, only two years older than me, and everything about him seemed to annoy me. I hated his smile, his laugh. Really, everything he ever did.
So that summer, when my dad had the audacity to announce that our family was going on a ten-day day, two thousand mile road trip, I was upset. And so was my brother. All of a sudden, we had something in common. We hated this stupid road trip!
It was like a dam broke. You could have even called us friends. Now at 18, I can’t even express how important my brother’s love, support, and friendship have been to my growth as a person. It may have been tough on our parents, but we eventually learned that being good siblings takes time, effort, and sometimes, a stupid road trip.