Voiceless In San Diego

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Pausing a moment by my grandfather's chair. 2008.

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Him: It’s hump day he told me as he left without kissing me. Her: Laryngitis. At the pool, I was able to do short laps for the first time in years. Aerobics hurt, but I feel really good today from the chest down.

Mid afternoon, an odd smell snuck in the windows of the computer room. Hot metals maybe. Perhaps something burning? I kept working but began coughing blaming it all on the smell.

By the time we were headed east to eat dinner with Carrie at DZ Akins, that bastion of “too much food on a plate Jewish Deli,” I’d lost my voice. Carrie’s blossoming took my mind totally off myself, but by bed time, I thought I might be coming down with something. Nyquil helped me not cough all night.

Dayquil will get me to school this morning, where I will sit on the sidelines and have someone else read my work, then I will come home and nap.

Tomorrow I will go to aerobics then come home and nap.

Dinner is cooked. There are new books just waiting for me in the living room. There are clean sheets on the bed. You will see me when you see me.