Driving home from freshman orientation, my teenage son says nothing. Sprawled out in the passenger seat, bangs covering his eyes, he fidgets with the automatic window.
“So, high school … it seems pretty cool, right?” I insist.
“I guess,” he shrugs, as he stares out the open window.
“High school’s going to be a lot different than junior high, but in a good way. I think you’re going to like it.”
Sigh. If I had to guess, I’d say he has a lot on his mind … not that he’s sharing it with me.
Not so long ago he told me everything, from who got their name on the board and why to the temperature inside his classroom. Now at 13, all I know is what he chooses to tell me. Combined with what I see, I can’t help but feel I’m missing something. His good grades tell part of his story. His mixed mood tells another.
It’s not enough to know he loves video games, hates cheese, and prefers Moco De Gorila hair gel. I want to know more. I want to know the important stuff. [read more…]