brother, sisterpublished: 2013-04-20
Past midnight, empty highway, moonlit sky.
On the radio, a politician discussed foreign policy. Our country had turned its back to the greater world. It was time to change that. He knew how. He gave examples, proving his expertise, sharing his wisdom in a flat and professional voice.
Toward the end, the interviewer asked what favorite song he had taken with him for us to hear. He explained how he had hesitated, but decided he’d do it anyway: play his sister’s song. Not because it was his sister, he said. But because it was that good. His voice thickened. He spoke of his sister’s path to music, and how he had never realized she could really sing until he had heard this song. His voice quivered now. It was no longer thick, it was swollen with pride. Her voice was so good, he said, that it spoke straight to the heart.
As the song started and her more than imperfect voice filled the car, I suppressed a tear. It wasn’t her song that touched me, neither her voice. It was the unconditional love a brother displays for his sister.
I remember my sister telling someone how good my novel is.