It is the end of the week, that means no school and exciting plans. It also brings my father and middle brother home from work for two days, my oldest brother and his fiancee home from their lives in Ann Arbor, my mother from worrying about daily chores and the busyness of a weekday, and for me not having to think about school. This particular weekend brings a round of croquet into my family’s life. After we finish dining, we find ourselves in the backyard, with the cool grass on our feet and the setting sun in the background. With the well known and ancient croquet course set, our minds transition into a competitive mindset. Swinging the hammers into the dull colored bulls, we slowly inch through the course, with the nesting birds reminding us how long we have been out.  Bantering back and forth, I realized what my family truly meant to me. I came to an epiphany that the feeling I was having was not new, but it was a long time in the making.

Growing up, I never realized the weight that my family had on me. Never knew the things they sacrificed for me, especially my parents, until I grew up. My parents were my rock in life growing up, and I have now, at 16 years old, just began realizing that. A pair of polar opposites on the outside, but in the inside are very alike. A short, blonde haired, talkative person and a tall, dark haired, silent person. On the inside, they both stand strong on their beliefs and are stubborn with each other. Past their similarities and differences, the couple know nothing but generosity and hard work. One does not complain about working half the day, while the other does not complain for having three children to take care of, all for their children to have a good life. They always brush off the praise presented from their children, just always making sure they do right by their children.

I still like to think about the place where my family and I would spend quality time, enjoying life with a youthful innocence. Almost every weekend during the summers I grew up with, my two brothers and I would pile in with my parents and head to the marina where we docked our boat.  A hidden away gem that got a lot of use out of it. With a dry, sun bleached, wooden dock that wobbled when you stood on both sides, and a glistening, white, blue striped boat that rested next to it, our family would set up shop to fish. Bait on the fishing pole, my younger self was ready to beat the previous summer’s record of most fish caught. Casting my pole into the green, dark depths of Lake Erie, I waited anxiously to feel the first vibration of a tell tale bite. Waiting for something to happen, I looked around and began to notice other things. I noticed many other boats bobbing in the water with streamers attached to deter seagulls, American flags dancing violently in the lake side wind, and the whitecaps out on the lake, warning boats to stay clear. As I grew up, my family and I went back less and less over the years due to various other responsibilities.

When I was young, I had a good relationship with my brother, Dylan. With an eight year difference between him and I, we had a heart warming movie-like big brother, little brother relationship. A certain situation that pops up was when my brothers and I went out to dinner together. We went to a Japanese steak house, with us having brotherly talks between the three of us. I got the same thing that I always there, which was the bento box, with Dylan and Dalton getting sushi. Spending quality time with each other was something that we did when we were little, and now as adults. The relationship between my oldest brother and I is not confined to one memory, but is applicable to my whole life, with the presence of my brother in my life all the time. We bonded and still bond over many things, but I have noticed a gap between us as we grow older.

Growing up, the relationship between my brother, Dalton, and I have always been the stereotypical love-hate relationship that is portrayed on television. When we were younger, we both enjoyed each other’s company very much. We still enjoy each other today, but sometimes we are at each other’s throats. In our younger days, I still remember the sleepovers that we used to have with neighborhood friends, and staying up all night playing video games and watching television. Fond memories of laying on blankets on the floor watching movies from Family Video come back to me from time to time. The smell of popcorn diffusing through the air and the popcorn kernels lost in the blankets were simpler times. These memories with my brother were well and happy when I was younger, but I am still making memorable memories with him till this day. Although I have a more happy-go-lucky relationship with my oldest brother, the relationship with Dalton is as rock solid as it is with Dylan.

In my teenage years, I came to the sudden realization of what my parents actually did for me. They make a lot of sacrifices for my brothers and I to raise us well and for us to succeed.  When I joined robotics, my parents were (and still are) very supportive of my endeavors to succeed in robotics. They drove me back and forth before I got my license, paid for travel fees, and put up with me not being at the house for dinners. My parents have also visited me at competitions, taking the time out of their lives to come visit me. The best thing that parents can do for their children are to support their journey and interests through life. That is what my parents did, if it was robotics or my schooling, my parents have pushed me to be the person I am today. For that, I am glad that they are my parents, and I all wish is to pay it forward someday and to make sure they know what they do for me.

Looking back onto these recent and distant memories, the thing that I carry with myself is an appreciation for my family. As I grow older, I realize what my parents and my brothers have done for me. I would like to think that my view of the world has widened as I have aged, and with that brings the reality that what I have at home is a very special and precious thing that many other people do not have. With growing older and realizing the special thing that I have, it is also a shame as well. I wish that I had the same appreciation that I have for my family now as I did when I was younger so I could have enjoyed it more. Along with growing up, I tend to forget that my parents and brothers are growing older as well. The appreciation that I carry with myself also brings a along a friend called bittersweetness. The sweet part is the appreciation for my family, and the bitter part is wishing that I had more time to enjoy that appreciation with.