“Mom, I keep thinking about Mike,” my son, who was 15 at the time, said. I was sitting at my desk, tucked in the corner of my bedroom, and I stopped typing mid-sentence when I heard the vulnerable words from my six-foot boy. I knew he was referring to the old middle school friend he’d lost contact with when he’d moved schools.
Want to read this entire essay?
Get Issue No. 008 of Simplify Magazine today for just $6!
Already a member? Click here to log in to your account.