My family has different voices. My father’s voice is like thunder, loud and uninviting. And me, my voice is annoying. It rings in the ear’s of others during times of joy. My sister has a voice that is bored and steady. She is not one to excite often. Listen closely.

       But my mother's voice, my mother's voice sounds like a heifer, at the farmland her family lived on right by her grandparent’s house, twangy like some lemonade, sweet lemonade and whenever she laughs, you’ll end up laughing too. Carried by hot blasts of coffee breath, her voice travels up the stairs, telling me to clean my room. The laughing, the coffee breath, all circling my mind as I clean my room.