Today is my brother’s 24th birthday. Not going to lie, it’s weird to think he’s that old (no offense, bro). It’s to the point where I have to do the math every year. “If I’m 27, that means he’s… 24?!” It’s crazy to think that my little brother is now in his mid-twenties. He’s been in the “real world” for a year and a half now and I’m so proud of how much he’s grown in his position at work, how he’s making a life for himself in Denver, how he loves those around him, how I can see him maturing even when I’m far away in Texas. Growing up in a close-knit Hispanic family, Alex and I spent a lot of time together when we were kids and he was often my closest friend. We would play different games together while my dad was at work and my mom was napping following her nights shift at work when we were younger, throw the baseball in the backyard together, fight over the TV remote, wrestle, and just hang out together. While there were moments when he was less than charming, like when he threw my beloved NSYNC CD in the trash, I love that we have always been close and that we can talk to each other about anything. Who would have thought that I would be talking about health insurance and rent vs. mortgage payments with the same guy who used to put his racecars outside my bedroom door so I would step on them first thing in the morning (sweet, right?…). We may not see each other as often as I would like, but I am so grateful for my brother and that he’s always just a quick phone call away. Happy birthday, bud. I sure do love you.