I don't think it's been three months since I was hospitalized, and now I'm sick again. I guess I really am a sickly person. I just look sturdy, is all. I really want some soup, like a Molo or a Phở. God, this is some Pulitzer-level stuff. She wants soup.
I put a milky candle under my candle warmer. It's basic, but I turn to vanilla for comfort, which makes it my least used candle. I'm listening to twinkly, pretty music.
When my mother was breastfeeding my brother, he couldn't feed frequently enough. Did she ever use a breast pump? I don't remember, but she must have.
What I do remember is sucking on her nipples to give her relief. I must have been five or six. I remember it in remarkable detail. It was in the afternoon, and it only happened once. And yeah, her milk was sweet, thin, and tasted a lot like vanilla.