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.

Snapshots of hurting people and broken families, but no resolutions
FRIDAY FUNNIES
I felt shame for my lack of love, but God said, ‘You can do better’
Am I betraying the truth if I don’t preach to the converted each day?
I’m all broken up about ‘draconian’ cuts hitting the federal government
What would you say if you could converse with your 12-year-old self?
Getting better at all I do is only way to fight ‘imposter syndrome’