Sing with my brother again

I remember, I remember it well. The details are fuzzy, but the memory like a fresh tattoo, still hasn't faded.  He would sing, when he was happy he would sing. When he was sad, he would sing. When he felt unjustly treated or neglected, he wouldn't complain; he would just sing. He was a weird kid, I guess in this case the pot is calling the kettle black.

I remember this one holiday we spent together, way back.  He was probably not even old enough to go to school.  He used to sing this song, a song I loved so much. A song that makes me want to drown in sorrow because I don't remember it anymore, maybe I am aging.   I remember the fun we had and how amazing it was to have a play buddy who thought the same way. I remember the miniature car we engineered from steel wire, damned thing kept falling apart till our older brother fixed it for us. Then it was the two of us against the wide open plains, the word ‘fun’ does not do the amazing time we had any justice. I remember the absolute emptiness I felt for a whole month after I got back to town, back to school. Back to tarred roads, fences and constricted spaces.   There was no singing, my buddies had to go home after dark. So there'd be no pre-bed time talk of how when we'd be older we'd take care of mom. We'd make dad proud.  The same emptiness I feel right now, an emptiness that will cross my path for the rest of my life.

I wish I could remember that song, so that I could sing with my brother again.