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.

Something in us usually wants to believe next year will be different
FRIDAY FUNNIES
Nine years ago, he asked her, ‘Will you take a chance on me?’
Love drives us mad, but madness rescues us from ‘horrible sanity’
Having a bad day? Meg gives you free smiles at the Rainbow Shop
Vile human cost of war ignored by Americans playing political games
Black Friday orgy of consumerism makes me very uncomfortable
I don’t care where Pedro is from, but I’m happy he’s my neighbor
In Colorado, these bureaucrats are taking ‘nanny state’ seriously