Spare Change

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It’s 10:35pm and still so light the kids are outside playing badminton with Cooper. I’d love to join them but I’m sick. The kind of sick that when you bend over you feel like your head might explode. In the beginning, my voice turned husky, seductive, like Melissa Etheridge singing the blues; it wasn’t so bad. Now I sound like Kermit the frog on helium—a kind of rasping croaky squeaking sound that… Read More