Said and Sung


This morning, when my alarm interrupted my subconscious’ unruly recess, it was still dark out. Nothing stirred, no one drove toward and past my house –  I could hear the valves in my heart constricting, releasing, closing, opening. Ah, Stillness. Twisting my body felt natural as an inhale, and as I faced my window’s wooden blinds,  I contemplated swaddling the Quiet as long as it’d be held. Jarring it, and placing it like a trinket on my nightstand, as if it were something I had collected on vacation.

Instead, I faded back into the shallow darkness, only to hear my dad’s voice. I heard it break through the air, clear as a mountain lake, in that same tone and pitch he’d always use:

“leeet’s go. cooome on. hup hup. cooome on. Hup hup, I say.”

And sweetly,  extending a gentle hand, he’d lift me out of a dream or a pout…


It didn’t give me the blues, no. This voice visit didn’t stop me from authoring a beautiful day, it stuck in my head to remind me of the joy that accompanies preserved memories. I’m not down, no — it’s just another day.

This song has been my dad anthem lately. Soul, gospel, raw loss — it gets me.  It might get you, too.

1 Comment

  1. I heard my Dad’s voice too, sometime after his passing, also during some half asleep moments. He called my name and I could even audibly hear his tone. Thanks for your words, Nicole.

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