The Things We Assume We'll Always Have

Most of us assume there's time.

Time for one more phone call. One more visit. One more chance to hear someone say our name the way they always do.

Usually, there is time. Until, one day, there isn't.

We don't notice the small things while they're happening
A voice on the other end of the phone. The particular way someone laughs at their own joke before they finish telling it. A good night said the same way, every single night.

None of it feels important in the moment. It's just how someone is.

It's only later, when the distance is real, that the small things start to feel like everything.
You don't need the right words

Recording a voice doesn't require a speech or a special occasion. Read a page from a book. Tell a story you've told a hundred times. Say goodnight.

It doesn't need to be polished. It just needs to sound like them.

Somewhere for that voice to live
An Echo of You bear gives a recording somewhere to stay, other than an old phone or a folder nobody opens. Something soft to hold, with a voice inside it, ready whenever it's needed.

Not a big moment. Just an ordinary one, kept a little longer than it might have been.
Stay well, wherever you are.