I’m not sure that you know how big you are. How cool you are. How much I want to be like you.
I don’t think you realize how much of an influence you have over me.
I see you quite a bit. I watch you do your homework. Go to school. Work. Interact with your friends, your family, the world around you.
I see you make decisions. And the funny thing is, even though you didn’t really think about your decision, and I certainly didn’t either, it’ll affect both of us.
Because the things you decide to say and do change your life, and they change mine a little bit, too.
I’m paying more attention to your life than it seems oftentimes. You’re older than me, and I want to remember the things you say and do because, when I’m big like you, I want to do those things, too.
Many of the ways that you influence me are subtle; so subtle that even I don’t really notice until later.
Later when I’m listening to music, and a song comes on that I’ve heard before, a song that you showed me. And it’s a nice song, I guess, but I like it even more because you told me about it.
Later when I’m reading a book, talking, learning, and I smile because you read about that, talk about that, learn about that, and I want to be like you.
I listen to the way you speak, too. The phrases you pepper your conversations with. The way you move your hands, your arms, your eyes, when you talk. And then, somehow, without me even thinking about it, I accidentally say one of your lines. Something I’ve heard you say over and over slips out.
And just like that, you’re influencing my very vocabulary.
I love hanging out with you. I love when you participate in my life with me, doing the things that I like, the things that I live. It makes me feel important, significant, when you come be a part of my world.
You’re so big, and you’re so cool, and I want so badly to be like you.
People look up to you, look up to me. What are we doing with that responsibility?