Brother

I remember when we were very young and I was afraid of a windy beast called the Night Wind. I would scurry out of my bed in the middle of the night and crawl into yours. You were no more than two years old and I was four. I would climb over your red guard rail that Mom made out of wood. She had to make it herself, since they didn't sell that sort of thing for children in Hong Kong back then. I then would snuggle up next to your little body and fall asleep against the rise and fall of your back, in your pilly cotton pajamas.

Now you are a grown-up. Successful. Wall Street, even.

But this one thing I know...you will always be my little brother, and my very first friend.