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.

Can we find way to separate love of home from worship of state?
FRIDAY FUNNIES
Partisans defend every kind of evil when it’s done by their own allies
It’s odd how ‘choice’ can mean ‘no choice’ with the state involved
For power-hungry politicos, nothing is more important than winning
Quit thinking about ‘jobs’; Think about what value you can provide
‘Vast military-industrial complex’ keeps growing and keeps killing