"Silence is one of the great arts of conversation."- Hannah More. Watercolor by courtney khail
I didn't really talk until I was four. Not because I couldn't, I just didn't have to talk. My older sister always spoke for me, which was pretty cool. It was like having a personal assistant assigned from birth! Adult-"Courtney, would you like a cookie?" My sister-"She'd like chocolate chip."
Of course my mom was worried something was wrong and put me into speech therapy. I vividly remember sitting in a tiny room (it seriously could have been a transformed janitor's closet it was so small) in a hospital maybe? A doctor's office? Who knows. (Well I bet my mom knows.) Anyhow, the room was tiny and had those floor to ceiling desks that were super popular in doctor's offices in the early nineties. You know the ones. All laminate in that weird reddish brown posing as wood color with the blue confetti laminate counter tops? I feel like they were in EVERY doctor's office.
(Well everyone except doctor's office except my pediatrician's. He had an old photo of him smiling with Mickey Mouse framed in the hallway and fun child themed wallpaper borders in all of the rooms. But he didn't need to be all trendy because he was the best doctor ever.)
Excuse the tangent, now back to the point of this story. There I was, sitting in this laminate filled transformed closet in a chair where my feet didn't touch the ground staring at a woman who apparently believed photo flash cards would unlock my voice. Almost as though I just never realized what something was called, but if she showed me a photo and said the word then by gosh, I'd be cured! So there I was, listening to said woman say things like "A...A is for Apple. Do you like apples? Can you say apple for me?" And I'm assuming I just sat there looking at her like she was crazy because, duh I liked apples. Apples are delicious.
That went on forever until we got to "W." She held up a flashcard that had a big black W printed on it accompanied by a cartoon window with blue curtains.
"W.... W is for win-dow. Can you say window for me, Courtney?"
To which I responded- "There are no windows in here."
And that's the day my mom took me out of speech therapy classes. Apparently I wasn't mute, I just couldn't be bothered to talk if I didn't feel like it. I also feel like that was the moment I first showed my love of sarcasm.
Of course today, I talk ALL THE TIME.
And every time my mom tries to get me to stop talking, we all remind her that she was the one who enrolled me in speech therapy.