Peggy Kinson

Journey of a Piece of Broken Beer Bottle Peggy Kinson

Each one of us, because of our background, where we have lived and the experiences we have had, have our own unique language, the language of our soul, our sound. I have read that if you could play someone's DNA, each of us would have a different melody!! You are unique and very special. If you were raised in the country, your unique language would be quite different from someone who was raised in a sizable city. The sound of cows mooing, a lazy, bubbling brook, or the wind wafting through trees are all rooted in the language of someone raised in the country. Birds awaken those who live in the country, declaring their delight with the coming morning. Contrast these sounds to the hustling, bustling city; the clamor of cars and trucks as they rush by with shrill horns blaring, sirens in the night, people laughing and talking as they dash by. The language of my soul sounds like the sea. It roars and shushes throughout my life. Indeed, if life was the sea, I would be a piece of glass; a piece of beer bottle glass tossed into the ocean off the coast of Newburyport, Massachusetts.