I feel like I should be thankful they want to talk to me. How much of the growing up years did I long for people to want to talk to me? But, it’s not always conversation I receive. It’s a litany of what they see – a verbal narrative that never stops, is often not interesting to me, and yields no peace and quiet.

We were driving, and while he was steering, there was barely a silent moment. “Look at that tractor. I want to check Craigs List. I would like to buy that tool. Did you see that thing?” Levi then begins his own chatter to compete or compare or be like his father. Then the father’s litany continues.

Quiet please. Can’t we just be quiet and be alone with our thoughts? Perhaps it’s more arduous because I am sick. My nose is stuffed. My head is stuffed. I can’t hear very well because my head is stuffed.

I should be more proactive about stating my own needs.

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