He stands on the mat with his nerves bubbling over, his fear getting caught into a knot of excitement. The whistle blows and his heart races right out of his chest. Suddenly, his lungs restrict and prepare themselves, so he has to search for a glimpse of air. Every move, every point becomes mapped out in his mind. In a spilt second he lunges for the opponents legs, pulverizing the other team's chances. Moments later his arm is being thrown in the air, and the crowd cheers with amazement. Another win is added to his record.


As he walks off the mat my hands stop shaking, my stomach finally uncoils and the butterflies disappear. Although he may be the one doing all the work, being a spectator at his wrestling meet involves just as much stress. Since day one I've been there, watching him sprawl all over the mat, trying out new moves and wondering what tactic works best for him. Although I may not always be there watching him, in my heart I'm there, supporting my old best friend and wishing him the best. His victory is my happiness, and his heart break spreads through me just as well.


Every match I see puts an ounce more envy in my soul. Every pound he drops to achieve his weight is added to the pile of admiration he's built inside my heart. As I grow up watching him set goals and achieve them, I wonder what it would be like to not have a brother so devoted to him dreams. If it weren't for him, I would never be so certain of myself and accomplishing my deepest desires. Seeing him with so many trophies proves to me that if I put everything I have into something, there's no way I can fail. If I open my soul and let everything go, let every ounce of myself flood into my desire, my goals will be obtainable.


Yet his body becomes his own downfall. The pain he works through seems incredibly stupid to the naked eye, but behind the scenes, you see a young man doing everything possible to be the best. His passion for the sport means more than a simple nose bleed, and the dedication he has created will stick with him for a life time. He suffers the pain of giving up his favorite foods, and pushing his body to the limits. He may have to fight the scale, but he always wins battle. As his little sister, I personally see the effect wrestling has on him. However, I've never seen him as happy as he is with a first place medal.


Now in his senor year, I often wonder what goes on in his head. The ideas that form must be more miraculous than any other thought. To stay with something for so long that has so many uncertainties is completely admirable. The pride means more to him than the fame. Inside I know that he would give up every last interview just for the feeling of accomplishment. A sudden sadness is now flowing through my veins, pouring into everything I own. Knowing his wrestling career is almost over, I can't imagine what life has in store for him next. As days pass by, and college letters pour in, the voice inside my head screams "Don't let him leave."


It's splicing my heart; the thought of him leaving, just after we've grown so close. Growing up, he meant everything to me. He is the star of my childhood memories, and he was my best friend when it truly mattered. But as his sister, I have no play in his destiny. Although we fight and have our rough moments, he proves to me that he cares about me and won't let anything hurt me. Therefore, I would do everything possible to keep him home, safe, and by my side. Yet, I want him to experience life and live happily through the rest of his days. All I can do is have faith that he will always have me in his heart and be aware of the impact he has made in my life. When the day arrives, my heart will be heavy and dark. But I will present to him everything he has ever given to me; friendship, life lessons, memories, and above all else, love.


To a wrestler, a best friend, an inspiration, and a brother.