My family has many different voices. My uncle’s voice is loud, and boisterous, causing a rift in the melancholy air. My mom’s voice is low pitched when flustered but so kind when she isn’t. My aunt’s voice is loud, but it’s so very friendly, it is a beacon that sends people towards her.  My sister’s voice is so happy, so sweet.  My grandpa’s voice, the oldest of us, is very gruff, and rough, but it holds warmth.
       But Grandma’s voice is special, her voice rings with happiness, spreads light through the air, it’s sweet, like honey, and it holds the warmth of a blanket, as she holds you, hugs you, tells you everything is alright, and I believe her, the stories that she told me, the voices she made, making me believe that Jason the knight was truly in trouble. The sweet sound of her falling asleep next to me, proving that I was safe.