I always loved this part the most, even if the mythology of the always-emerging younger sibling didn’t come to fruition every time (though, admittedly, it did bear fruit more times than not). I simply liked knowing that there was someone else arriving behind the someone I already knew. That there was another person to admire, a gentle toss away. A kind of magic in saying I am not sorry, there are more of us, you haven’t seen anything yet. A kind of magic in staying, too.
