I JUST WANT TO HEAR YOUR VOICE

I thought of you today--of course--I think of you everyday.

I wished you could hold me again (not just once, though, because I want to  hug you over and over). 

I just want to hear your voice. Even one more time. 

Memories of the Voice

When I first dated my husband Robert, we had talked a few times on the phone following our introduction on a messaging site. I had seen his picture and he had seen mine. We knew a little bit about each other but not much. His voice, though! It was amazing and deep--full-bodied. What came out of his mouth was like mellifluous surround-sound. His voice was rich. 

Listening to him when he used his "honeyed tones" was like having chocolate poured down your throat or swimming in whipped cream. Whatever you can imagine that is sinfully, delightfully over the top. His voice always sounded strong but when he was phoning me just to be thoughtful or when he actually wanted something, he employed the honeyed tones. It was impossible to refuse him anything when he spoke like that and I mean, really! Who would want to? He so rarely ever asked for anything for himself and was always so willing to help others. 

When he was frustrated or just plain angry (usually at politics or some difficult computer technical problem with programming) he got even louder to himself. When he was furious, and had to speak to somebody else, he got eerily quiet. The madder he got, he quieter he got. 

Rob would often sing along to the radio when we were in the car together which was pretty much every Saturday and Sunday plus many weekdays. He was musical, sang in tune, and had a totally pleasant singing voice but he was so humble about it. He never believed that he had a good voice. I know that we sound different to ourselves than to others but Robert had many occasions to hear himself on audio or video tape because that was his business for many years when he worked for various companies in the movie industry. 

But right now I would give anything to hear those honeyed tones again. I would give anything to hear the loud parade-sergeant's voice, too. I think I'll leave those creepy silent tones back in history where they belong!

"Love you, Babe."

"Love you more!"

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