You don't know why, really.
Maybe it's because she keeps cartoons in the bathroom and under her bed. Maybe it's because of the way she smiles when she reads them.
Maybe it's because if she could choose, she'd wear jeans and a white t-shirt every day.
Maybe it's because she paints her toenails different colors.
Maybe it's because she likes high-fives.
Maybe it's because she always drinks orange juice in the morning, after she brushes her teeth. Maybe it's because you can taste it when you pick her up.
Maybe it's because she likes watermelon gum. Maybe it's because she's made it your favorite too.
Maybe it's because she thinks you always fall asleep smiling.
Maybe it's because she makes you feel small.
Maybe it's because she doesn't say anything when you cry about stupid things, like tanning and wheelchairs, or serious things, things that hurt, things that makes your skin burn in a different way than her touch. Maybe it's because she holds your hand and smiles.
Maybe it's because she has freckles on her back.
Maybe it's because she lets you understand the things she can't. Maybe it's because doesn't always need to understand.
Maybe it's because she needs you.
Maybe it's because she doesn't need you. Maybe it's because she wants you.
Maybe it's because she sees the little things, like the way you smile when you see a ladybug. Maybe it's because she knows that your favorite fruit is apples, that you like your coffee black and your tea with milk, that you used to collect bottle caps and that your sister's middle name is Maria. Maybe it's because she knows you love her.
Maybe it's because she's B and you're S. Always.