Having Tea with Punky Brewster

YesDay, Women, the Children We Love, and the Children We Are

I’m writing this on my last day from the RONA Room. My smeller is officially broken, but this will not stop me from scooping Titus up to my nose like smelling salts as I break out of here. My intellect feels somewhere in the mashed-potatoes department, and I’ve been sitting for so long that I can feel myself shrinking in the wrong ways. Alas, we all hav…