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.

In a vulnerable moment, woman confesses she’s scared to change
Love & Hope — Episode 7:
Why do Birmingham taxpayers give $500,000 yearly to college sports?
Deep-seated shame makes it hard for me to take my needs seriously
Roy Moore just the latest in the long line of politicians who want control
Get over it: There’s no media conspiracy against your beliefs
Taking Donald Trump seriously means ‘Idiocracy’ is already here
Is Herman Cain guilty of sexual misconduct? I wouldn’t be surprised
Practically and legally, it’s true: Good fences make good neighbors