Streaming From The Mental Netflix

The memory came unexpectedly. Buried somewhere deeply in the stacks of significant but not often recalled life experiences. My conversation with my son had dragged it up, pushed it forward, and blasted it out into my embarrassingly small space of wakeful consciousness.  And I remembered.My son is in sixth grade and goes to the same middle school that I went to as a child. On the few occasions I have visited, a wave of familiarity washes over me. Feelings submersed for decades return with smoothness and clarity. For a few moments, I remember what it feels like to be twelve years old again.My son's interests are mainly confined to science and electronics. I, of course, try to talk to him about subjects like politics, art, and the opposite sex. Recently I asked him if boys are talking to girls? Dating? Holding hands?While he immediately demurred and squirmed in discomfort, an uninvited apparition suddenly streamed out of my mental Netflix. And her name was Christina.Christina was in my sixth grade homeroom class. Everyday we chatted, joked, and passed the time until the bell rang and we moved on to more serious academic endeavors. I liked her. She was kind, and pretty, and funny. By the middle of the year, boys were beginning to ask girls to form more formal relationships. They called it "going with". It was basically equivalent to a childish version of dating.I finally built up the courage to write Chris...
Source: In My Humble Opinion - Category: Primary Care Authors: Source Type: blogs