At a function recently, I asked a close friend what I considered an innocuous question. "How is Vivek?" I asked, referring to her son who had just graduated from Brown University and had returned home.
Shoba Narayan in The National. More Here
"I don't know how to talk to him anymore," my friend replied forcefully. "He is 22 years old and still hasn't decided what to do with his life. He wants to take a year off to figure it out. What's there to figure out? I knew I wanted to be a doctor when I was eight years old."
"Things are different these days," I murmured sympathetically. "Kids have choices. Not like how it was when we were growing up."
"But he should at least tell me what's on his mind," my friend continued, barely registering what I had said. "He should tell me his plans, instead of floating about the house in limbo, answering in monosyllables."
The teenage years are tough. Everyone tells me that. But as a parent whose first child has just become a teenager, I can tell you that the toughest thing is the silence that suddenly emerges like a chasm between you and the child who was once a part of you, who was once almost an appendage.
I used to be able to tell my daughter anything, and usually did once every few minutes from dawn to dusk. "Brush your teeth. Don't forget your lunch box. Remember the library book. Did you finish your homework? Eat your vegetables. No TV if you don't finish music practice. Clean up your room, young lady, or else... That's it, you are grounded."