Perhaps I was eight or nine when I first realized the mesmerizing almost hypnotic characteristics of my Mother's voice. It was a late Friday night and my Father was attending a 'union meeting' in East St. Louis. Mother and a dear lady friend were in our living room exchanging comments on a plethora of topics while awaiting the return of their husbands. Both women's voice tones were calm and somewhat soft. My Mother's voice was particularly soothing, unburdened and consoling. I don't recall any subject matter discussed, I suspect it likely was tedious to a young lad's ears. As I revisit that night, I do remember vividly a feeling of mentally snuggling into a state of tranquility, comfort and safety as I fell off to dreamland.
Throughout my adult life, I have cherished and mutually nurtured a close relationship with my parents and made my wife and children centerpieces in those engaging times. My Father's voice was silenced eighteen years ago. Periodically, I retreat to my office late of night to listen to his voice on old cassette tapes from joint vacation trips in years past. Those moments stir precious memories.
Since my Dad's passing, I have been more than casually vested in telephoning my Mother often to check on her condition, share our interest and simply to 'hear' that coveted and tranquilizing voice.
I am sad to acknowledge that in recent months, I am denied joy of conversation with my ninety-three year old Mother due to her profound hearing loss. Her inability to understand my words is frustrating to her and sad for me. I do not press the moment insisting that she understand what I am saying. She appreciates the telephone call and seems to know that I am just fine if she tells me about her day and says, "I love you" with her calm and caring voice.
Behold the simple joys of life; like life itself it is fleeting.
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