Some of the most influential people in my life are those I have never met. Authors who have written a good book, or a musician performing an emotional piece that touches me. These works have moved me, caught my attention and motivated me. Through music, I hope to enlighten others, the way these authors and musicians have influenced and enlightened me. Aside from famous artists, the most influential person in my life is my younger brother. While I have appreciated these famous authors, I have truly realized the satisfaction and importance in helping others through my relationship with my brother. When I was 7 years old, my mother told me I was going to have a baby brother. I was so excited, and daydreamed constantly of all the fun things he and I would do together. After Cole was born, some time passed before my mom sat me down and told me that Cole was different from other children. She said, "Cole has Down syndrome". I remember her struggling to put into words that Cole may learn slower, he may never be able to do all the things that I would be able to do, but that it was very important to remember he would always need me. I immediately began to worry about many different things, "Would he be in a wheelchair?", "Will he ever be able to go to school?" I was very concerned with whether he would be able to talk with me, or understand the things I wanted to say to him. As Cole and I got older, I began to notice that his expression changed whenever I played my guitar or sang to him. He always looked so happy, calm and attentive at the first note of my song. Cole also learned in his own way to communicate with me through music, my instruments and imitating me. I learned some basic sign language to help us communicate, but I still saw a different, more content look in his eyes, a unique connection, when I played music or sang. One day, when Cole was about three years old, he was home sick with an ear infection. He was sitting in my mother's lap, crying, when I got home from school. I walked over to them, and rubbing his head gently, asked, "Oh my buddy, you don't feel so good?" Cole sniffled, crawled out of my mother's lap and over to my guitar. He pointed to me and then made the sign for "music". In that moment, I felt so valued, that he knew my music could soothe him more than anything else, yet I also realized how lucky I was to have a brother like Cole. I learned more from his communication to me that day than I have ever learned in school, or from reading great books, or listening to famous musicians.