When I was a little girl and I'd get mad at my parents, I'd tell them I wasn't going to talk to them. As if that was real punishment for however they hurt my feelings. The only problem is that I could never keep my mouth shut. Now all I want to do is thank my mom and I can't even speak. Thank you laryngitis for enlarging my lymph nodes and pushing unfairly against my voice box.

So my mom came up with Charlotte and they were everything I needed. When I took the second dose of my medicine, I started to fall asleep on her lap while she played with my hair. And all I dreamed about was Etta James singing Sunday Kind of Love. I wish life had more moments like that.

Labels: Best of Libellus