I realized I’d done it again. I was volunteering information that was potentially noxious for a hyper-concerned mother. Like a seasoned politician I walked it back, detailing how friendly and responsive my neighbor had been, how fun it was to drive the rental car for a few days, and how the car looked like new.
“Oh, that’s good to hear,” Ency said. I was beginning to see why David chose to share only positive news with his parents. I wondered about the offhand statements I’d made to my own parents and if they were troubled by any mentions of stress and strife. Nah, I thought. Nothing fazes my folks — I know this because I spent years trying to do just that.
Once we were off the phone, David said, “Look, when I was 16, riding my bicycle across Europe, my passport was stolen. I didn’t tell my parents about it until I’d gotten a replacement. They have their own problems to stress over. They certainly don’t need to be fretting about what’s going on with my printer, especially when it is not broken.”