I’ve saved voice messages from my son over the last several years. I wasn’t conscious why I’ve done so — space on my phone is limited so why keep mundane messages like “can I have a sleepover” when they are a dime a dozen?
I also saved a few voice messages from my daughter, but the urgency to do so was not as strong as it was with my son.
This is the Summer of the Voice Change
Now it makes sense why I felt compelled to save my son’s pre-pubescent voice digitally. His little boy voice is gone to me now, except for in these few recordings I hung on to.
There are fewer than three months between these two clips. My son is in the middle of the change now — his voice today isn’t the same as his voice yesterday. And his voice tomorrow will again be new.
For now, as he continues his one-way trip into manhood, I’ll play documentarian and treasure the moments I’ve captured.
And laugh a little at this memory, which I never got to experience up close until now (I have no brothers).
(By the way, do you realize that Marcia — Maureen McCormick — turned 60 earlier this month!?)
I have my own personal and portable DJ. Reed loves to play music for me as we drive from activity to activity. He plugs his iPod into the car’s reverse-USB port and carefully selects songs based on factors of the moment.
On a recent trip that was just the two of us — which meant he got to sit in the front seat — he chose songs from our past. One he got done fiddling with his iPod and the music began, he did something remarkable.
He reached out for my hand.
For the rest of the 15-minute trip, our fingers were as intertwined as our voices.
The next day, Tessa invited me to take the dog for a walk with her. “Come with me, Mama,” she said in the unguarded tone of voice I remember from her pre-teen days. And by “pre-teen” I mean “less hostile.”
We found the leash, clipped it on Dexter, and headed out the door. Before we even got around the corner, Tessa did something remarkable.
She reached out for my hand.
For the rest of the 15-minute stroll, our hands connected us and our stride synched us.