Letters to My Siblings: Dani

A new series where I write letters to the people who shaped me before I even knew who I was becoming.

I remember you singing in the back seat of the car, sounding exactly like Mariah Carey. Not kind of like her, not doing an impression. You just sounded like that. I tried to chime in, probably on some run I had no business attempting, and someone, maybe Mom, said "Shh, let's hear Dani." I shut up. You kept singing.

That's the image that comes to mind when I think about us growing up. You, leading. Me, trying to keep up.

Dani, you seem well. We talk, of course we do, but it's different now. We talk through our kids and in the background of FaceTimes as they laugh and play, their voices filling the spaces where ours used to be. Sometimes I wonder what we'd say if it was just us on the line. If we'd talk about the pressure of being first, or what it felt like for you to be in the middle. I had the weight of being the example, the protector, the one who had to get it right first. But you, you were sandwiched between expectations I'm not sure I ever understood.

And then you actually went first at the thing that mattered most. Parenthood.

I was in college when Jo was born. Way too immature to take care of a kid or do much of anything else, honestly. I remember holding him and feeling completely out of my depth, then watching you just... do it. Not perfectly, I'm sure, but you did it. Early. And from the outside, it looked effortless. I've always admired that about you, even if I never said it out loud.

I always tell people I'm the least talented of the Douglas kids. It's not self-deprecation, it's just true. You've always been the one leading the way in music, acting, visual arts, dance. All of it. I guess in a way, that's why I worked so hard. I knew I had to get good if I wanted to play in your band.

And now here we are, and the timing almost feels like a conversation we're having without words. I'm stepping off the road, winding down the applause, moving toward something quieter. And you're just getting started. A mom of two, creating great music, and from what I can see, on the brink of something big.

There's something right about that. You going first again.

Keep it up. I can't wait to see how high it goes.

And hey, don't forget about all the kids I beat up for you when you get famous. You owe me about 10 mil at least.

But really, I just wanted to say this: I see you. I'm proud of you. And even though we talk in fragments now, in the margins of our kids' laughter, you're still the voice I hear when I think about what it means to be brave enough to actually go for it.

Talk soon,

Your big bro