Every time I am asked about my hero I automatically respond with my brother. He's been my role model since I was a little girl. Ever since I could walk and pick out my own clothes I was copying his gait and raiding his wardrobe. Back then it didn't matter that my daily apparel tended to be a basketball jersey two sizes too big, short gym shorts, and a pair of hand me down Nikes. I was only six and the clothes gender line wasn't near as defined yet, and all that mattered was that I was just like James. As we grew, he continually accomplished big things and made commendable choices, worthy of admiration. His latest choice tops the charts. He has been sworn into the Army, and due to his high performance on the ASVAB has been given an 18X. An 18X is a tryout granted to an enlisted man who shows promise to complete the training to become an Army Ranger before reaching E-4 status. I am so proud of him in making the choice to defend his country's freedom. However, not many things scare me, but this, this terrifies me. What if I lose him out there? That's my brother, my hero, my leader. What do I do when he's gone? He taught me how to shoot, throw, throw a punch, tie my shoes, curse. Don't tell my mom about that last one; she'll have both our necks. When I try to talk to people about it, they always say very reassuringly, "Oh, he's smart. Don't worry; they always save the smart ones". That very well may be, but while he's out there on mission, the enemy doesn't give a damn if you got a 99 or a 29 on the ASVAB, the enemy is the enemy and the enemy must be killed. I used to believe in the romanticism of war. I loved the time frame of the 40s when going dancing was a real thing to do and drive-in movies were the spot. I always was a bit jealous of the girlfriend in the old war movies. There's just something so romantic about hand written letters, and the hero clutching his girlfriend's picture as her smile is the only thing that could possibly get him through the hell blowing up around him. But strip away the romance story and the epic soundtrack and all that's left is some poor soul being blown to smithereens by the Krouts. In the movies the hero always makes it home with some minor flesh wound and a little emotional baggage. In real life he loses a limb and half his mind. What if my brother loses his mind? If he does make it home, God willing, will he still be James? I'm not sure how I would react if I heard him wake up in the middle of the night, screaming from haunting dreams. I think I would try to brush it off. Pretend it never happened. Shove it down in the bottom of a chest buried six feet under my emotions. I wouldn't be able to handle it, and it's not even me that would have lived the through the terrifying experience. He doesn't think of it in that pessimistic way, though. Rather than think about the danger, James is excited about being paid to be outside and moving and running and, well, not sitting behind a desk all day. He only thinks of the good in the situation: doing the Lee family proud by following tradition and serving in the United States Armed Forces. He ships off to boot camp on April 8th. My birthday is the 23rd of April. Some birthday present, right? Safe to say when I blow out the candles I won't be wishing for a pony.