Travel light, but take everything with you. Take your ambitions, your hopes, your dreams. Take with you all of those memories of when we were kids; that time you got so mad at me that you punched out one of my baby teeth.

When you're cleaning out that dusty suitcase under your bed, set aside that sea shell we found on the shore on our parents' fifteenth anniversary. Set it on a shelf somewhere that you will notice it. Not every day, but once in a while, when you least expect it. Think of how we had our first heart-to-heart when we were sitting on the peer. All of those problems seem so far away now.

I won't see you before you leave, but know that I'm thinking of you. I think of you every day. You're my protector, my aggressor, my brother, my best friend. I wish I could fit inside of that carry-on beside that old pooh bear you take with you, but at least there's room for my heart. I love you.