Her Voice

"Hi, Sister..."

After all these years, her voice still feels like a warm hug.

You see, the day my sister was born, I got my very first best friend. 

Less than a year apart, we grew up sharing a bedroom, whispering long after we were supposed to be asleep, telling each other everything, and promising we'd someday live next door to each other.

Instead, life carried us in different directions. Careers grew. Children arrived. Our days filled with all the beautiful chaos of building a life.

I missed my sister. I missed her voice. I missed hearing about the ordinary little moments no one else would have found interesting—but somehow we always did.

Separated by time zones and daily schedules, we struggled to find time to connect.

So one morning, after getting everyone off to school, I settled into my commute with a cup of coffee and called her. It was too early in Colorado for her to answer, but that didn't matter. I just needed to talk to her.

“Hi, Sister…”

I told her about Patrick’s soccer game, the birthday party I’d forgotten, the recipe that turned out better than expected, and the challenging project waiting for me at work. Nothing earth-shattering. Just life.

That afternoon, driving home, I was delighted when I found a return message waiting from her. I smiled and laughed and nearly cried listening to the sound of her voice.

Almost every day since then, we’ve continued this ritual. For years we’ve celebrated victories, talked through disappointments, solved problems, shared our grief, and served as each other's therapists—all through recorded messages.

Thirty years later, I still smile when I see her name on my phone. I tap the play button, and for a few moments, we're just two little girls lying in the dark, whispering and giggling late into the night.

Sometimes the perfect bite is hearing the voice of someone who’s been part of your story from the very beginning.