My family is loud-not just on special occasions like Christmas or Packer parties, but every day. My house is filled tightly with four dogs, four kids, and two adults. We are close, but we have to be- there simply is no space. The house is like an opera, everything echoes back. Voices echo back.
My father’s voice echoes excitedly down the halls on top of the freshly finished hardwood floors. Feet tip toe trying not to make a sound, but the mouths are as loud as some announcers on ESPN Thursday nights during Football Season. My father’s voice is dark and deep, but forgotten friendly. He is a father, he is not to be talked down to, but to be talked to with respect. His lower lip-holds tobacco, and his water bottles hold the spit. HIs voice- his voice is something I won’t ever be able to forget, for those nights of yelling, nights of laughing, nights of lectures, and nights of careless chatting will forever be memorable memories.
Some people scream at the top of their lungs at their kids, making their voice shatter the souls and spirits right then and there. Some people like to hear their own voices all the time for absolutely no reason. Some people- like my dad, use their voice to make a statement, and to make people understand what it's like to hear voices in their head, when voices echo back.