I peer down at Reese, our thirteen-pound miniature dachshund. He is reasonably much smaller than I am. We got him for my brother Oliver as a gift, due to the sudden passing of our beloved golden retriever, Rory, who meant so much to him. I look away from him momentarily, something interesting on the television, funny cat videos. I begin to glance back down at Reese when I realize I am face-to-face with him. His drool and laughable expression is staring right at me. “Bark!” the ground rumbles, earthquake! I am fearful that he will surely do it again. That is when a giant hand gently scoops me up. Relief, I am not kibble. I feel the world plummet below me as my brothers giant hand elevates me slowly, carefully. He looks at me and smiles, mouth full of metal. “Wanna draw together?” His deep voice booms. I agree, I love to create as much as I can. It is mentally stimulating. I am then placed onto the dining room table. A sea of painted black wood, worn in spots. Everything looks enormous. The potted plant in front of me is a forest. I jump into it to explore. Earthworms look like pink snakes. I am surrounded by greenery. Emerald stems with beautiful purple and white flowers. I hop out back onto the table. To lift the pencil to draw, I hug it, wobbling on my feet trying to keep my lines steady. To make a line I race across the page. The paper eventually depicts a blueprint, meant for three dimensional printing. I run across the page, and it becomes a world around me. I am in a grassy meadow. It even smells like freshly cut grass. A blue plastic cow gives out a harsh moo with such force I am thrown from the page. I land back on the table, dazed from the fall. I decide to run across the page Oliver has created, the Arctic. He loves watching documentaries about there. I find these films effective for falling asleep on our large green sofa. Why did he have to take me somewhere freezing? My skin rises into goosebumps and I shiver. I travel through the soft, untouched snow for ages. It is barren and beautiful. Dark eventually falls as a black colored pencil shades in the sky. Just as fear begins to set in, alone in the Arctic, a colony of penguins waddles in. They are friendly. I look up and realize why they came here. Colors begin to crowd the sky. He paints me the aurora borealis. He has remembered it is my dream vacation,ever since I learned the science behind it in my physics class, so he has taken me there. He draws in a tent and supplies and I spend hours watching the sky in awe. In the morning, after sunrise, I begin to walk again. I love walking, so this is easy for me to trudge through the icy terrain. The edge of the paper appears again after some time, and I step back onto the table, wiping my feet off so that I do not get his masterpiece wet. I tell him how incredible the penguins are, along with everything else. He says the shading needs work, he always says that. This makes me laugh. What a perfectionist. He walks away into the kitchen, hungry from all the growing and creating. I glance at the wall where our heights are marked. White wood trim, the doorway between the living room and dining room. I realize that I had never shrunk at all. The only change was watching my little brother grow up into a man.