His voice was a commanding presence.
I couldn’t help but stop and listen.
When I was little, my grandfather had a voice like that. He taught me how to wiggle my ears and play cards. He told me to sign my name big and bold like John Hancock did in the Declaration Of Independence, and not be afraid of what other people might think about what I was signing. I might’ve been more accustomed to my abuser’s voice telling me all the things I couldn’t do, which led to me believing them over everything else. But I remember those moments.
© Sarah Doughty