My friend asked the question out of the blue. I was spending the night with my friend, Larry, and I was lying on a twin bed in the corner of his room.
“What do you think about your mom being gone?” he asked.
It didn’t strike me as a difficult or important question, but something about the experience has burned everything about it into my memory. I was about 10 or 11 years old. Although my mother had been away from us off and on for years, the divorce had been final only for a year or two. She had no custody or official visitation.
I considered Larry’s question for a long moment. I felt very cold. Very hard. There was no emotion in my voice.
“I couldn’t care less if she moved to the Sahara Desert,” I said.
That’s all I said and Larry didn’t ask any more. It’s a good thing, because I might have cried if he had pushed to know what I meant. I was confused. I couldn’t tell if I felt nothing or if I felt more than I could handle. I swept the feelings under a rug in my heart — and I left them there.

I’m not sure what’s left to say about politics, so here’s a picture of a cat
Things you do in life determined by who you decide you want to be
I fear nobody will come with me as I start down a difficult path
Google’s new glasses: Geeky dream or just more information overload?
Ban on saggy pants: Why do we require laws against looking foolish?
No, I can’t support your campaign; changing candidates won’t fix things
Kind words can make difference for stressed parents at Christmas
Listen to Samuel’s ancient warning to Israel about anointing a ruler: ‘…you shall be his slaves’
I’m losing need to explain myself to those who misunderstand me