I can't understand everything they're saying. But I hear the voices drifting up from the basement as I sit at the counter in the kitchen. A spirited video game battle is in progress. Most of the chatter consists of commentary on the game, with occasional bursts of colorful metaphors accompanied by laughter. I am astonished, as I have been so many times, at how much my younger son's voice is like that of my brother. So similar in tone and depth, especially the laugh. It makes me smile. Standing as testament to the healing power of time, this reminder now makes me feel as though just a little part of Cullen is still alive and well, dwelling inside the person of my second-born. This I celebrate.
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