I feel like the older I get the more titles I acquire. Titles like daughter, friend and mother. Student, and then graduate. Or the most daunting title of all, adult. But one of my first and forever favorite titles is that of little sister.

I grew up surrounded by the noise, and smell, of boys.

I both hated and loved it. It shaped me into the me I am today. There was frequent bickering, but also so much laughter and love. My two older brothers were my first friends and my first enemies, ridiculously protective yet also my harshest critics.

They were always bringing home snakes, spiders and bugs to keep as pets. Watching my brother feed his tarantula was captivating in an almost disturbing way. I used to catch and dismember grasshoppers with one of my brothers as entertainment on slow summer days. Now, there is hardly a creepy crawler out there that can make me squirm. I am the designated spider killer for all my squeamish friends.

I was always trying to do things just like my brothers, or only because they did them. I killed bugs and gophers. I joined karate and baseball and soccer when my brothers did, quickly learning I had zero skill or love for any of them.

I lied shamelessly, and completely unconvincingly, to our family eye doctor in the hopes that he would decide I required glasses – both brothers had them and I desperately wanted to be the same.

Along with two older brothers came their multitudes of friends, some spending so much time at our house they became family too. Pseudo siblings who were just as good at being a best friend or a mortal enemy, depending on the day, as my own brothers. I was a little sister, but every so often I managed to sneak in and be part of the gang. I loved when my world was filled with all their loud and slightly inappropriate teenage chaos.

When they both graduated and moved out, my mom and I were left in an eerily quiet world. For the first time we were just “us girls,” with no gaggle of gangly boys to make a mess or tousle our hair right after we’d done it.

Luckily I didn’t have to miss them for long. By the time I left for college the three of us were once again living in the same zip code. Thanks to a little gained maturity we were able to become friends in a way that siblings can only do when they’re no longer living under the same roof. Now I cherish the fact that I get to see them so often, and am dreading the day when one of them decides to move away for good.

Both of them surprised me in their seamless and utterly adorable transition into “unclehood,” accomplished with more adoration and patience than I ever imagined possible. Skye idolizes and adores her uncles, and the adoration is mutual.

My brothers dote on their niece, while also always ready to back me up when she turns into a tyrannical toddler. I love to think about all the many things they can teach her. Things that will make my heart happy, and also the things that will make me cringe.

They can both teach her things about science that I will never begin to understand. One can teach her about every bird in the sky, while the other passes on the perfect backflip technique. She is their baby sister’s baby; they will always be there for her when she needs them most. Just like they’ve always been there for me.

They are my anchors keeping me grounded; they are the wind gusting at my back, forever moving me forward. Being their little sister is one of the things I am most proud to be. They are my protectors, my support system, my heroes and my best friends.

They are my brothers. They are my boys.

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