I called my house last night, needing to ask my mom a question. My dad tried to wake her, through poking and prodding, laughing at her persistance to sleep.

When she got on the phone, her voice was slurred from sleep or possibly that extra glass of wine with dinner, and disgruntled from being woken.

“Mol, sometimes I really love your father and other times, I just want to push him down a grate in the street.”

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