childhood illness
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I once, according to my dad’s telling of the tale, came downstairs from my room, obtained a jar of jam from the refrigerator, took a spoon from the silverware drawer, and started to eat jam directly from the jar. When Dad questioned me, and asked what I was doing, I became defensive. Whatever was happening
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This morning I asked the dog, “Wouldn’t my mother be proud of me, swallowing up to 11 pills at once?” Shockingly, he responded by turning his head to one side and looking at me with cuteness and confusion, wondering if I were asking him something he wanted to hear … he hasn’t mastered English language
Learning To Be Whole 