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.

Mom of out-of-control teen thug must share blame for ugly arrest
We’re slowly losing our religion, but we manage to find new gods
What are the odds that gambling improves your economic future?
My utopia’s different from your utopia — and that’s just fine
Murdered family cat in Arkansas is latest victim of partisan political hate
Want to start a ‘free city’? Check out the guidelines to see if you qualify
Love & Hope — Episode 10:
If you live in Hawaii and want to see my film on TV, public access is coming your way with it soon
Do five big beer companies force Native Americans to abuse alcohol?