Rocking Chair

one word — in which I do not write the thing I need to write for my grandmother’s birthday. Bah.

He had a rough voice, but soothing, like a familiar sound from your childhood. He could have played the owner of the dry goods store in a western, the one that gives the hero advice to get out of town.
I might have said it reminded me of my grandfather’s voice but I didn’t remember what he’d sounded like.

It sounded the way I hoped my grandfather had.