I’m fairly certain that the version of him we lived with during the last year, was mostly a chemically-altered version. During the ugly days of summer, I couldn’t find my M anywhere – and believe me, I searched hard.
My child is missing, and I can’t find him anywhere. His name is M, and he is…
- extremely funny and has the ability to make you laugh…hard.
- an amazing artist. It’s fascinating to watch him draw a picture – he can create beautiful pencil sketches so quickly.
- skilled at hitting tennis balls against the garage door; he knows all the sweet spots.
- a genius at creating artwork out of simple desserts. (This became a friendly – but heated – competition between K and him occasionally.)
- an amazing impersonator. (I know, sometimes it was at the expense of his teachers. I’m sorry about that, by the way.)
- an energetic, hilarious dancer in the passenger seat…could watch him forever – so, so funny.
- the kid who always organizes the neighborhood football games, baseball games, and excursions to TCBY.
Some may say the description of the boy who has gone missing, simply turned into a teenager and that’s why I didn’t recognize him anymore…but I beg to differ. The thing that took over my son’s body left him withdrawn, insolent, and disagreeable; he had became a shell of the person we had known for his entire life. We want him back. He’s only sixteen.