And I won't say it.
Sometimes I'm writing a sentence and the word slips out and then I erase it.
Sometimes the word fills up my mouth because I hold it back too much. It doesn't spill out, instead it seeps into my cheeks and enters my bloodstream. The word pumps through me and I, in essence, become the word.
And I think there cannot be a better word in the English language. But then maybe I'd think "bubbly" was the best before I heard "effervescent" or "picky" before "persnickety" came along. "Brunette" before "Ginger".
Maybe I haven't heard my perfect word. Maybe it's on a page in a book I've never read because I'm too busy rereading my favorite. Maybe I've read the word six hundred times; I've just never spoken it out loud and it has never rolled off my tongue. Maybe the word is in the Amazon right now, or maybe Germany or maybe Pleasant Grove.
But I'm not searching for that word.
Because I like my word too much.
It makes the corners of my mouth turn up whenever I say it and it makes my voice sound like music.
So I'll keep singing it.