Your words, your voice reverberates all through these walls. These walls that have you all over them; baby picture here, little girl picture there. Pieces of art just around everywhere. I hear your voice on your bookshelf and in my room, fragments of conversations in time. “Mom I love how you decorated your room…..” “Do you want to read my second Harry Potter book?” I hear them all the time, pieces of conversation that are never finished but hang in the air like an unfinished thought, lays on my couch like an unfinished book.
And I hear you, I hear your voice as it sounded all those times…a little girl, a young woman, telling me things, making my heart melt like steel in a hot blazing furnace which formed the shape of you….and wrapped around my heart.
Your voice, it bounces off the frame you made of popsicle sticks…. I see the stain of each popsicle where it once held that sweet delight you loved so much….all made into a frame just for me….with your picture in it……”Momma, I made this just for you……” And it sits there still, just where I put it then and you look at me…and I still hear your voice…bouncing off the sticks.
I hear your voice like the ghost of the past calling out to me, words and sentences that fall off before they reach the end…..and I hear its echo in each room I go….”Momma I love you so, I love you VERY so.”