Took a day off last week as I had my brother visiting, so dedicated my time to spending it with him. Walking around with a sixteen year-old is a surreal experience, especially with a brother. They remind you of yourself all the time, not in the I-remember-those-days way, but by recognizing all the potential.
I’ve lived over twice as many years as him, but he’s already lived a full life and there is still so much life ahead, multiple lives even, which just highlights how much potential a person has no matter how much they think they know or how much others think they don’t know anything. Sixteen is a weird age. How many people will he have been by the time he hits my age? I keep saying he’s a child, but his wisdom consistently rejects my condescension. Like, he’s going to be so much taller than me, already a shoe size larger, and our genes tend to produce late bloomers. The world better watch out.
All week, we would ride the subway and walk blocks of skyscrapers and Hudson River brine. He listened on his head phones the whole time. At first, I wanted to say “listen to the city,” but at nineteen I would have been wearing massive Beats-by-Dre headphones and a scowl across campus. Despite concerns to the contrary, I was never upset, but the music blocked out the noise, transforming the chaos into a tapestry to be appreciated and accompanied by running thoughts. Instead of chastising him for not paying attention, figured I was a just his guide for the city’s provided meditation to a brilliant young man ready to burst into the world with new ideas and fresh human concerns.
There is much more here, and I’ll write more about it over time. I’m excited to mine more insight from my relationships with them. It may take me a bit, but I’ve got an essay cooking about taxis, cynicism and personal style based on some lessons I’ve learned from my little brothers, muses of infinite inspiration.
See you next week,
