Every good squad needs a short man to make the rest feel tall. Fortunately for me, I didn’t even need to seek out a good pint sized pancake, I got my own.

Five years after my parents gave birth to the sweetest creature to walk the Earth (ahem,me), they introduced me to my biggest nightmare and eventual best friend. Lets call him John.

So started the cycle of sibling rivalry, nasty fights over the remote, and bickering over parental attention. He is a bull in my china shop, the Giant at Cinderella’s tea party. Having so much curiosity, he can’t help but examine everything in sight. Alone, the things he can imagine render me wordless, but then he brings them to life with a little makeshift magic of his own. He can create things with his hands many adults can’t make with tools.

Our entire family dynamic has shifted, John and I have taken on the task of maintaining a house and all its many moving parts. In the beginning of this battle, I’ll admit, we all forgot about John. He was the little guy who got shuffled around from place to place as we continued to push on with our lives. As dad’s treatment progressed it was evident there was a lot dad wasn’t going to have the capacity to do, for a long while. John stepped up like the little trooper he is and took on dad’s work.

As the leaves start to fall and the weather turns cool, my little pancake pulls on his beanie hat and boots to rack leaves and tend to the yard. He reminds me of what it means to be pure. There is little as refreshing as watching him work outside and keep peace with the neighbors like a man

On days when I feel I have nothing left in me, no fire, no fight, John reminds me to take a step back and enjoy the small things. And that makes me strong. He is the small pancake on top of the stack of average sized pancakes. He makes the average pancakes feel big and mighty. And the average pancakes couldn’t do anything without him.