Have you stopped asking questions?
Kay recalls a time when she was much, much younger. It was late and dark. But my dad kept driving toward our hotel. So while my sisters slept on either side of me in the back seat, and while my mom fought to stay awake up front to keep dad alert, four year-old me stood, my feet straddling the backseat middle floor bump and my hands gripping the front bench seat, talking and talking and talking. Finally, my dad told my mom to just go to sleep—all my chatter would keep him very much awake. I’ll never forget having my...Read more …