I hear my voice, even now, as I type out these words, formulated only a moment ago in my mind. I hear it in my thoughts, just before it sounds again when I speak. In many ways, I’ve never noticed a change. Just like we rarely see the gradual changes in our appearances, I have not heard the gradual changes in my voice. I’m not aware of its continual transcendence, even as it is molded each day by my life experiences. It is only when I think back to my voice from long ago that I realize how much it has indeed changed. It is only then that I hear how deep it has become, how much more confidently it resonates.
My voice no longer follows and chases the voices of others trying to replicate them. It does not continually question itself before deciding to speak, wondering how it will be received. It is ever-changing, my connection to the world around me. At times it will falter, it will misstep, just as it always has. But it will not be silenced while I still breathe to hear it. When I hear my voice, and it is raspy and hoarse with age— when it is barely more than a whisper, I hope to look back and remember the days that it rang out proudly and joined the harmony of achieving a greater purpose.
Photo by marinadelcastellTags: Okemos High School voice