The Spotify Notification That Saved Our Brotherhood. A Silent Reunion...

 

My brother and I didn't speak for three years.

There hadn't been one terrible argument or some big family fight. Life just got in the way. We moved to different cities, found jobs, built separate routines, and slowly stopped making an effort to stay in touch. At first, we missed a few calls. Then birthdays passed with nothing more than a quick message, until eventually even that stopped.

I kept telling myself we'd catch up eventually. He probably thought the same thing. Neither of us seemed to know how to be the first one to reach out after so much time had passed.

Then, one ordinary evening, I got a notification on my phone.

Your brother added a song to your shared playlist.

I stared at it for a moment, almost forgetting what it was referring to. My brother and I had created that playlist back in college, when we used to share an apartment and argue over whose music was better. We hadn't touched it in years.

Curious, I opened it.

The new song was one our father used to play during long family road trips. I could picture him driving with one hand on the wheel while my brother and I sat in the back, fighting over snacks or singing along badly to the radio. It was such an ordinary memory that I hadn't thought about it in years.

I sat there listening to the whole song.

I wondered whether my brother had added it by accident. Maybe he'd been looking through old music and stumbled across the playlist. But something about that particular song made me think he'd remembered the same trips I had.

I wanted to message him. I opened our conversation and stared at the empty space where a new message should go.

"Hey, how have you been?" seemed ridiculous after three years.

"I'm sorry we haven't talked" felt too small for everything I didn't know how to say.

So I closed the conversation, went back to the playlist, and added a song of my own. It was one we'd listened to constantly in our first apartment, back when we were young enough to believe we had everything figured out.

I didn't write anything with it.

A few days later, he added another song.

Then I added one.

That was how we started talking again.

For the next six months, our playlist slowly filled with music. Sometimes he added a song I remembered from our childhood. Sometimes I chose something that reminded me of our college years. Other times, I had no idea what he was trying to say, and I suspected he might not have had a specific message in mind at all.

We still didn't text.

We didn't call each other or arrange a visit. We didn't suddenly start exchanging updates about work, relationships, or the everyday things we'd missed in each other's lives.

But every so often, I'd see his name appear beside a new song, and I'd listen.

It became a small part of my day. I'd open the playlist on the train, while making dinner, or when I couldn't sleep. Sometimes a song brought back a memory so clearly that I could almost hear my brother laughing beside me.

It wasn't the same as having him in my life again, but it was something. And neither of us seemed ready to ask for more just yet.

Last week, he added "Brothers in Arms."

I listened to it that evening, sitting alone in my apartment. I didn't know exactly what he'd meant by choosing it, but I thought about everything we'd been through together and all the years we'd let slip away without noticing.

I wondered whether he missed me.

I wondered whether he was waiting for me to say something first.

I couldn't answer either question, so I searched for a song to add in return.

Eventually, I chose "Lean on Me."

I added it to the playlist and put my phone down.

A little while later, I checked again. He hadn't added anything else, and there was no message waiting for me.

For once, I didn't feel disappointed.

We had spent years not knowing how to begin a conversation. Now, in our own awkward way, we'd found a beginning.

We still have a lot to catch up on. I don't know what the last three years have been like for him, and he doesn't know much about mine. A playlist can't replace a proper conversation, and I don't expect music alone to fix everything that kept us apart.

But it has made reaching out feel a little less frightening.

Yesterday, I almost sent him a message asking how he was doing. I typed it out, read it twice, and nearly deleted it.

Then I remembered that the first song he'd added had been one our father played on those long drives when we were kids.

I pressed send.

It was only four words.

"Hey, how have you been?"

He hasn't replied yet. Maybe he's busy. Maybe he's figuring out what to say, just as I did for so long.

I'll give him time.

Our playlist is still there, and I have a feeling neither of us is finished adding songs.

For now, that's enough to make me hopeful.