For breakfast, I would really have liked something warm, like scrambled eggs, perhaps, but I hadn’t been able to work up the courage to ask Aunt Lydia to show me how to use the stovetop, being too embarrassed to admit that mother had never allowed me to operate that. But the cupboard was stocked with a half-dozen brands of children’s cereal. I poured a bowl of Captain Crunch and topped it off with some skim milk. A good choice and one that I hadn’t had in several years. That cereal had been one of my sister Elaine’s favorites, and she had always picked it out when choosing breakfasts, again, something that mother didn’t let me do.
For most people, it feels like their bladder must be practically yelling at them once it has filled up and needs to release. For me, the messages from my bladder tend to come as the faintest of whispers, noticeable only if paying close attention to all the tiny signals coming from my body.