In a small cluttered room, there is a black rug over the wooden floor and a mirror over the faded white door. The faded white paint is also spread on the closet doors, which within contains clothes glass bottles, a wide variation of books and cramped school supplies. At the other end of the room there is a jumble of different drums, like kahones, djembes and bongos. Along with them sits to shelves holding winter gloves, hats, and a sculpture a young man made of a sunset. He is sitting a few feet away at his desk writing with an open envelope close. Also on the desk is some speakers, playing some gentle tunes that slightly moved the air, a lava lamp, which lit the room up with a red hue and moved in a mesmerizing fashion and a picture, posted on a magnetic board above the desk. The young man puts down the pen. He looks around my room, analyzing all the objects new and old, thinking of all the accomplishments he and I made over the past few months, and how to tell the people in photo what I have done and how they motivated me. For the young man is me, and I think back on how I met some of the most meaningful people in my life only a few months before, when that picture on my board was taken. I remember it very clearly.
I was in an uncomfortable dark brown, worn wooden chair with no cushion, alternating between twiddling my thumbs nervously and stroking my hair from anxiety. It was an unusually bright sunny day in Michigan, with only a few white puffy clouds in the sky, moving with a steady pace in contrast to the glowing stationary sun. The light was glaring in my eyes, but I was too concentrated to notice the glare. I look out the smudged window, covered with marks from very sweaty palms, like mine. I wonder if they are from people like me, waiting on people who were only minutes away as our emotions were in a tornado in our minds. My Dad and stepmom across the room, doing a much better job of hiding the impatience in their eyes. Though they have seen them before, it still has been a long time apart from their children, a tough thing for any parent to do.Today I was meeting my siblings who I have never even seen before in person. Unable to put a face on the labels of little brother and baby sisters, haunting me on times when I saw any child with any likeness to any family member. My thoughts were mixed and confused, and partly guilty that their names had to be retold to me, thoughts in my head started to whisper I shouldn’t even be here. If I wasn’t there for them this far in this life, what makes me worth of their time now?


I pushed these thoughts to the back of my head, refocusing on where I was. I scanned the parking lot anxiously, along the eroded paint that might not survive the elements for too much longer, to the cracks,holes and scars from Michigan winters lying in the concrete. Then suddenly I saw a dark red SUV pull in, brightly washed and waxed as if presenting it to someone. and knew exactly who it might be. My assumption was confirmed as my twin baby sisters got of the car. Not confident in their footing quite yet, they awkwardly wobble walked as fast as their tiny legs could take them. My anxiety must have took steroids then, because it multiplied, and only seemed to grow as they found their way to the door. This resulted in a task that must have seemed to go by as seconds for them, went on for days in my messy hair covered head. If I chewed my nails, my arms would most likely be short stubs. As they walked in with their adopted parents, I noticed features up close such as wide noses, dark brown hair, green eyes, longer torso that reminded me of my stepmom. Their parents calmly coaxed them over to me. “Hi, my name is Tyler. What’s yours?” I asked. “Khayla and Ayala. They aren’t too keen on speaking yet” One of their parents said, and the smile they gave me must have matched mine then, because I felt my cheeks stretch to their capacity. Then as they went over to my Dad, I heard a door close outside and I swiftly turned my head to the window, and I saw a child who had already begun dashing from the red car. As he excitedly walked in the door, I noticed he looked at me with blue eyes that reminded me of looking in a mirror. I wonder if he felt a familiar aura about me, because he seemed to dash right at me and introduced himself. “Hi my name is Kaiden, who are you?” and I noticed that he seemed to be talking a lot less spontaneously than his previous energetic sprints and jumping would suggest. I wonder if he was nervous, or just taught that being loud around strangers isn’t appropriate. “Why do you look like me?” he shyly asked. Indeed he curly blonde hair, unproportionate ears, a wide smile with big teeth and a tall lankiness which was almost identical from my childhood photos. Traits that I thankfully grew into.Though he still pulled off better than I did as a young kid though. I still try to picture what he will be like when he is my age. Even though we share some traits, he could still turn out very differently from me, but my job as a brother isn’t to make him a copy of me, but to point him away from my mistakes and set an example for him to try his best in everything he does. As he looked at me with an unsure look on his face, I flashed him a grin, picked him up. “My name is Tyler, and I’m your new playmate”.

We were directed into what seemed like a tiny conference room, complete with a large table made with very non durable wood, and all the black dull rollable chairs anyone would need. The next next 60 minutes felt like only a few as I chased, carried and played with people I could now place faces on when I said their names, plus the traits and quirks that make them who they are. Kaidens impulsiveness and energetic spring in his step, Khayla's quiet smile and shyness that was adorable and Ayala’s mischievousness that often put a sly smile on her face and often mine as well. Our laughter filled the room almost the entire time, and I felt a warm embrace of what I can only explain as belonging. Knowing I would rather be nowhere else in the entire world than right here. I still don't understand why
I was so nervous and scared of how they saw me. All they asked from me is that I give them the attention they deserved from me when I could. When I was waiting for them, I didn't realize what kind of people they were, young, innocent, and tiny. People who I wanted to know more about as they got older. People that I may not live with, or know particularly well, but still trust and are glad that I am their big brother. They may change as they get older, maybe into entirely new people. But they are my family and will always have a part of my life, thoughts and actions. Hopefully they will learn from my mistakes and accomplishments, and make them better people, people who are proud to each other family.