On mute

Somehow between yesterday and last night, I contracted laryngitis. I woke up several times in the night because it hurt too much to swallow.

Today, my whisper is stronger than my speaking voice. My voice sounds faint, like a tiny moth caught in velvet curtains. I squeal when I ask a question, like Minnie Mouse on helium.

This is not a bad thing. I’m watching instead of talking through every moment. I see the small kindnesses my husband continually makes, I understand that the yelp from our new puppy is an excited question instead of a demand. He’s never been on a road trip before and doesn’t understand why his crate is being put into the back of the car.

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