Voices

Searching for another CD, I found it. I knew it was there somewhere, a thoughtful gift that I thoughtfully put away.

There was dust on it. And I suddenly felt like I needed to hear it. I had forgotten what time of year it was recorded. Christmas messages for someone in a foreign land.

I initially took it out and played it in the car as a novelty for the kids--for my son who would appreciate it. There are other tracks on the CD that I knew would interest him more. Some old college audio projects, his mother interviewing his father for a project. (Now I listen and realize where I made mistakes and how I could have done it so much better. Lessons learned from time and experience.)

Later, I keep the CD in the car. And as I drive alone I replay the first few tracks. The tracks that were not meant for me. I was not yet born. Although I was mentioned and thought of. I listen to voices and realize what I have lost. What I have found.

I listen to a woman I did not know at all. And one I knew well, but had almost forgotten how she pronounced certain words, for some reason her pronouncing "chicken" sticks with me as only she would say it. She is stilted on this recording and I can tell she is uncomfortable talking into a microphone. And yet, I listen with my eyes closed as I sit in the drive way. She is so much younger in this recording and I am trying to reconcile her voice on the recording to the voice I was so familiar with. It is a short time on this recording. It is not enough. And yet it is.