I’d like to have a box for all the mean voices I’ve heard in my life. A box with no exit and a really big padlock. No key. And once the lid is closed, the mean voices are erased from my memory. Forever.
But the lovely happy voices, those I’d keep close to me. Like a locket I could wear on a chain around my neck. Then I could listen to them whenever I want. Giggling conversations with my best friend in grade three. Hearing my name as the winner of a junior high writing contest. Dad calling me by the nickname only he was allowed to use. My husband telling me “I love you” for the first time. The laughter of my children when they were babies. The laughter of my children as grownups.
I like that idea.