A part of me that was interested and sharing died that day. I realized all the words I'd been saying to my parents had slid off like raindrops on the hood of a speeding car. One moment can change everything, in the life of a child. From time to time, I consider telling my parents about something I saw, heard, or thought, but I always think back to Maria.
It's all a joke. I don't open myself to my folks anymore because I'm not interested in being vulnerable to them. I choose my friends carefully based on how they react to that slight tone change in my voice that I am being serious beyond serious. And I strain so hard to hear it from my friends. They're rare; I can't afford to lose them, too.
