I have a couple of friends from middle school whose houses I was at a lot as a kid. Later in life, I always thought it was a little odd — in the best possible way! — how nice those friends’ parents were to me, both while I was at their houses a lot and after, in high school or early college when I was still seeing them around a bit. I’m not saying it’s odd that adults were nice to me, but they seemed to have a real affection for me that I hadn’t particularly done anything to earn; I wasn’t that interesting or friendly, I didn’t talk with them that much, I ate a lot of their food and probably made a lot of noise and mess in their houses.
Anyway, my daughter is in middle school, and she just had some friends over for not quite the first but close to the first time in a long time, and now I get it. I don’t have to be involved, I don’t particularly have to click with the friends (although they’re very good guests and seem like fine young people in general). I’m just happy to be here.
Currently reading: STOREYS FROM THE OLD HOTEL, by Gene Wolfe.
If you’re enjoying my writing, you can get some of my short fiction on your e-reader for the low, low cost of $0. Remembered Air is a collection of six poems and short stories not available anywhere else. Download it here.