- Vol. 05
- Chapter 09
Image by Namroud Gorguis
My Son’s VoiceWe were packing when I found it
in a box of our son's high school things.
No note on it, but I was pretty sure
it was his high school theater project.
He recorded himself and then
listened to it over and over in his room,
re-recording it when he thought of places
to modulate his tone, to give more emphasis to certain lines
to bolster shaky points.
I listened in at his closed door,
but I knew he did not want input
from me, so I never asked to listen with him
neither to the tape nor to the re-speaking
of the part onto that used and reused plastic tape.
I remember how excited he was when
he came home from giving the presentation
on stage in front of his teacher and the other students.
I can hear him even now...
"Mom, they gave me a standing O!"
I gave him a hug.
My Son’s VoiceAt first I scrounged around for our old tape player.
Then I stopped. This was his private tape.
Yet, his voice..how I longed to hear his voice
again, even in the guise of one of Shakespeare's men.
I could not bring myself to listen so,
instead, I lovingly affixed it to a green page, his
so we would not loose it, using some of that special
"comes-right-off" adhesive so perhaps in future,
I can listen. I placed the green sheet and tape
in my own box of special memories.
It needs no label. The green identifies it.
My heart will not let me loose his voice,
even without listening.