My parents are gone, but I still have their things. A plate, a chair, a matchbook, a sweater, an old cell phone. Something of them lives on in this stuff. Send a picture of an object and tell me what it does to you and how it makes you feel about your mom and dad, dead or alive. Then go clean up your room. Thank you
This is a photo my parents saved of me as a rude teenager. It's not just a record of who I was at the time but who they were too -- worried but patient and even willing to be amused, knowing I would outgrow an unpleasant phase when children have to rebel and their parents have to endure.
I raise my glass (not my finger) to all parents with teenagers.