I’ve got a collection of voicenotes. Some from my Mom: her calm voice soothingly leaving love messages. She uses her formal tone and I can tell she’s sat up straight when sending them; she is yet to relax around new technology.
Some from my best friends. Extensions of my soul. Filled with laughter and every manner of joke, poor use of the word “like” and puns.
Some from my sisters; excited, high-pitched stories and rushed “love you”s at the end.
Some from myself to everyone. To my brother, who never replies in text; he always calls back. To my Mother filled with French phrases and life questions. To my best friends. Inside jokes and Christian puns. Rants about everything I could possibly be peeved about. Slow “love you”s at the middle of the recording because these words are still too sweet on my tongue so I dilute the cringe with banter.
I treasure these most. They teach me who we are growing to be. I wrap myself in tones and intonations. I find home in them. I’ve got this collection of voicenotes that I secretly loop. At three am or at ten pm. When everything is silent and deadlines are crowding me. I plug in my headphones, I curl up inside the words and, finally, I can breathe.

-How Jesus Loves.

Ya Julio.


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