McD was beautiful.
He had great big brown eyes and that great baby smell.
I was eight and I was convinced that this beautiful baby boy was mine. That he was my baby to take care of. It's funny because if you look at pictures of us from back then I'm toting him around everywhere.
I was raised in a unique household. It was my mom, dad, brother and myself. My Aunt Toya also lived with us. See, I'm from Honduras and as most Latin Americans will tell you, family stays close.
In the same house kind of close.
The story goes that when my mom, dad, brother and I moved to N.O. we were on the plane and C and I looked around and started looking around for Toya. It wasn't long before we were both crying because she was not with us.
See, when my mom got married, the only one of her sisters to marry, Toya went to live with her. With us. I don't know a single day without Toya in my life. She's a second mother to me in so many ways.
She is also McD's mom.
McD is like my little brother. I used to hear him playing with his friends and he'd always refer to me as his sister.
And we were close, maybe it was the eight year age difference that helped us get along.
Maybe it's just that McD is a terrific kid.
When I got my license I hated driving anywhere alone. When I was 17 and he was nine, we drove around all over New Orleans together.
He was my co-pilot.
Everywhere I went he was with me. The time we spent together is time I'll never get back and man am I glad I had it.
He was just such a cool little kid.
Today he's funny as hell.
A trait that I like to think he inherited from me because he can match me point for point on smart ass comments and looks.
McD hasn't had it easy.
But he's still trying and still dreaming.
He's taking his time and coming into his own.
Sometimes I look at him and I can't believe he's becoming a man.
A man that I am proud to know and honored to be called his sister.
Happy birthday, McD.
I love you.
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