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I am a complex individual. Hell, I’ll admit I am not really
friendly, personable or likeable. My interests and opinions are so out there
that I don’t have much to discuss with people. I’m an introvert. That means I
enjoy spending time alone more than I enjoy being around people. This is a challenge because although I am not
one to socialize, I do crave a good conversation every now and then.
I smiled a deep smile as my phone rang yesterday, interrupting an intense brainstorming session. I had to pick up: It was one of
my favorite people—my 12-year-old son calling from the East Coast.
twice daily, to keep the connection strong while I am out here in Los Angeles
taking a risk for my dreams. While I can barely make eye contact when I meet
new people—much less hold a conversation—my son and I gabbed about everything;
the news, his school, my hopes, our future, Internet jokes, YouTube videos and
even the rain. He disagreed with me on some of my opinions, which I can
appreciate. I encourage him to never follow anyone’s opinion blindly because no
one can figure out life’s answers but him.
He passed the phone to his brother, and we had a remarkable
chat, too. We talked mainly about books, preparations for his upcoming math
exam and my strategy for marketing my creative work. I reminded them to get their homework done
and go to bed early so they won’t miss the bus in the morning. I hung up
feeling satisfied and pleased with myself.
It feels good to know that even though I’m a weirdo, somebody likes talking to me.
As much as I enjoy my introversion, the cool part of being a mom is having my kids to check in with. When I must step back into the real world I get a treat; because not only do I have children who understand and accept my quirks and intelligence when no one else does, but I also realize that my sons are actually my best friends.
They are my favorite people to hang out with. We take the
bus to the beach and have great lunches and ice cream. We stay up late watching
movies. We even have a standard "cuddle time" where we devote about a half hour
to simply hugging and allowing them to talk to me about anything their minds
can conceive. When something great happens in my life, they are the first ones
that I call. On my birthday or any holiday, I’m not calling up my girlfriends
to go party; I want to spend it with my sons.
They laugh at my jokes. They support me in my dreams. They
listen. They understand. It feels good
to know that even though I’m a weirdo, somebody likes talking to me. Somebody
wants to see me. Somebody thinks I’m cool. Someone is proud to walk with me in
public. My favorite memories in life are those moments when I’m goofing off
Maybe there is some truth to the concept of soul mates. Maybe
there is some cosmic fate bonding souls through unconditional love and
laughter. Maybe I won’t marry mine, because I gave birth to them.