The evening is far spent as I lazily doze on my seventeenth century bed. My dresser reflects the ages of people unknown. My nightlight gives off the same orange hue as the sunset I just witnessed earlier which adds to the coziness of my tiny, antique room. My lace, sheer curtains blow gently in the breeze which finds its way in through the slat of my window...it's fresh. The crickets are singing for me. I smile as I hear southern speech drift into my room. My mother's voice carries in it the echos of generations before her. Laughter plays on her voice and she is soothing. I remember my grandmother. She too had that southern song which rang from her voice. Soon the song of my whole family plays in my head and I am back into my childhood days. The smells...the voices...the feelings...they are my memories that are so sweet in my mind. I love my familiar voices...may they live on into eternity.
sarah jones
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