Halle Yenenesh Williams,
As I type this, I’m sitting at my desk at school. It’s Saturday, November 16, 2013 and it’s a rainy Tennessee afternoon. You, on the other hand, are in Ethiopia, several hundred miles away from my side. You don’t know me, yet, other than the several pictures that we’ve sent you. And, I don’t really know you yet, either. I don’t know what your laugh sounds like, I don’t know whether you’re ticklish or not (although I REALLY hope you are), and I don’t know what it feels like to hug you. I don’t know what your voice sounds like when you say my name, and I don’t know what your favorite foods are. But there are several things that I do know.
For one, I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anything else in my life. Also, whether you like it or not, you’ve inherited a big brother who’s a bit of a hugger (just ask any of my friends). I also know that you are the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. From the moment I saw the very first picture of you that me, your brother Braeden, and Mom and Dad ever received, I knew that you were special, created by God. I also know that He created you for us. You’re a Williams if I’ve ever seen one. I also know that I’m thankful that God has allowed me the ability to be a big brother again. This time, hopefully, the one you tell your potential suitors about, saying the words “You better watch out. I’ve got a big brother, and he has a beard.”
I also know that I can’t wait to hear your first words, whatever language they may be in. I know that the moment I first hold you, I’m going to ugly cry. So whenever you read this, I’m truly sorry for that embarrassment. I know that I want to see you ride a bike, play soccer, and guilt me into playing with you and whatever various dolls you may have. And just to dispel any doubts, no matter what I say, I will always love playing dolls with you. I know I can’t wait to hear you sing, even if it’s the alphabet, or “Jesus Loves Me”, or if I get my way, it’ll be something by Coldplay.
I know that I can’t wait to come to sibling days at school. I know that when you’re in High School, I can’t wait to take off work so I can come home to put the fear of God into some 16-year-old boy. I can’t wait to see you smile, as you take pride in the things that make you happy, those things you’re passionate about. I can’t wait to see you grow up not only physically and emotionally, but I can’t wait to see you praise and sing to the Father that brought us together.
Halle, I don’t know when you will read this. Maybe you will read it at your wedding. Better yet, maybe I’ll read it at your wedding and ugly cry again (again, very sorry for that). But what I do know is this:
I love you. And you are my sister. There are many people in my life that I love with all that I am. But you, you are the only one that has ever stolen my heart and held it in your hands without ever uttering a word to me. I look forward to the years of laughing, the years of crying, and the years of tickling that lie ahead of both of us. So as I sit here and try to finish this letter through my tears of joy, know this.
I love you, and will always love you. Come home soon,
Your incredibly proud big brother,