The night went by with howls and screams. I spent a restless six hours moving from bed to bed, cradling and calming, while Babydoll suffering a painful earache, did her best version of the The Scream .
We awoke groggy and tired. Half dressed in her school uniform, Babydoll pleaded to stay home from school. With her hand over her ear, she explained pathetically,
“I don’t think any of the other kids will be able to hear me.”
Her ear was kaput and so was she, I reckoned.
She has only me to blame. Me and genetics.
Most women covet sweet blowing in the ear. Me? The result is a throbbing ringing in my ear for days. As a child, I had to wear makeshift bandanna hats so to keep the cold breeze from puffing pain into my inner ear. As a result, I’m never far from my beloved hats and scarfs, regardless of season.
A few months back, a neighbor said she and her husband were driving one morning when they thought they saw me on my walk.
“I said to him, ‘Look at that woman! She so bundled up, she’s ready for a storm!” Looking back at me she says, “And that was in August!”