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.

Calm and perspective needed for Boston, not accusations and games
Worshiping the ‘lesser evil’ will always allow evil to rule over you
For me, Valentine’s Day seems to bring out my regrets every year
Bride is 89 and the groom is 86,
Intellectual honesty mostly dead — but few partisans even care
Parent has to realize a child isn’t just miniature version of himself
Fear of potential loss is a terrible reason to stay in the wrong place