When my brother was too scared to answer, I spoke – Now, he spoke in melody, I learned to listen | Jesse Cole

wMy brother is very young, he hardly speaks, and of course he has never been stranger. he Can When speaking, he did not develop stunted, he just chose not to choose. We are close to age, less than two years apart, and around the world – I speak for him. This may be a common dynamic: a talkative elder sister, a quiet younger brother.

Sometimes I am condemned by kind strangers. “Stop talking to your brother,” they said hard. I asked he A question. I will calm down and humiliate. My brother wouldn’t say anything, but scared my eyes to step in.

As a kid, I don’t think my brother has any words to speak. I heard his voice in my mind, and I believe I am his translator. To me, it feels natural. It’s easy to laugh at – childhood delusions – but as toddlers, we read everything around us. By immersing in the family, we gain language.

Perhaps, my brother’s nonverbal prompts were like language to me. Much of the things conveyed between people involves adjustments, subtle readings of each other’s emotional states, microscopic expressions and nonverbal cues. Maybe I just haven’t learned to distinguish. Adjusted, I read him talking.

We’ve always been close, but in adolescence, our world is Swallowed by sadness. We were six years apart, and as we staggered towards adulthood, we lost our sister and father to commit suicide. I became quieter, but my brother was almost silent. During this time, he was learning guitar and his music rose to fill the space. Lost language, longing language. Such a plaintiff, so expressive. There are other ways to speak.

Unlike me, my brother doesn’t remember much from our childhood.

The trauma has eliminated it, and it seems to be the case at times. He has no memory of our sister who lost our sister when she was ten years old. In this, we are opposite. For years, I have been writing about what’s going on in my family – in novels, in prose. Every memory shines like a pearl on the string. Sometimes, I mourn him for losing his memory of his admiration. Little brother, tilted moisture, a boy with a few words. Always be the easiest person to love. When he read my memoirs, Stay behindhe said, “You gave me my childhood again.” I wasn’t so confused that I couldn’t see me just give him me.

Today, my brother is a person who makes silent. If you want to hear him, you must learn to be quiet. I taught myself how to bite my tongue. And, there will always be music. Joy, miracle, melancholy, sadness, drama, so many dramas. Nervous, release, surprise, awe. My brother’s music is filled with many moods. In the song, his vocabulary is huge and his story is unique. All tools illustrate many implications. The voice of our childhood. Dylan, Tom Waits, Randy Newman, Neil Young, CNSY, Joe Cocker, Tim Buckley, Roy Harper, Roy Harper, Bruce Springsteen, Billie Holiday, Pred-Disco Bee Gees, The Beatles, Bob Marley, Paul Marley, Paul Kelly, Paul Simon, Paul Simon, Judy Garland, John Garland, John Lennon, Prince, Peter Gabriel, Peter Gabriel, Talking Heads, Sade sad sad sad sad. Listen, you can grab all of this hints, plus the intensity of the inner world that is rarely verbally expressed. It is still alive, pulsing. All history, all feeling. In the book, I gave him my childhood. In the music, he gave me him.

I am here, still talking for him! I heard those kind-hearted adults from our childhood: ‘I asked he A question. go! Go and listen to his songs!

• Jesse Cole is the author of four books, including the retention and desire of memoirs,