Dear Miles,

I guess one advantage to having the longest/weirdest/togetheriest year of our lives take place during your twelfth year is that I really got to stretch out the final months before you became a teenager. Of course, it’s kind of like flipping the calendar between December 31, 2020, and January 1, 2021—progress is a process, not a precipice, and one day doesn’t really change much. You’ve been a teenager in spirit for quite some time, rolling your eyes at Tobin’s jokes, staying up late watching The Simpsons or playing online games with your friends, and avoiding my hugs. We even managed to work a Simpsons reference into the way you avoid my hugs. “I’m going to move my arms like this,” I say, making hugging motions, “and if you get hugged, it’s your own fault.” Sometimes it even works.

That is not to say you’re thoroughly surly. You love talking about your interests, and even though I can’t muster much enthusiasm about the Pixar theory, at least I also like The Simpsons. It’s been the same way your whole life. For a while you were into Calvin & Hobbes, and it seemed like the only contributions you ever made to dinner table conversation started with “One time, in a Calvin & Hobbes…” You rarely shared anything about your own thoughts or concerns, and you still don’t very often. It’s up to your dad and me to interpret the specific Simpsons anecdote you mention to see if it reveals anything about your current frame of mind. Mostly, as far as I can tell, it’s just whatever you’ve watched recently.

F0r posterity: the day before your birthday, January 6, 2021, violent insurrectionists attacked the U.S. Capitol and threatened the people and processes taking place inside. It was a scary time, and we can’t be sure the scariness is over, because threats continue to emerge. We talked about it as it happened, and you had a special session in school to discuss it as well. I’ve been trying to include you in conversations as much as possible about the unusual and challenging political climate we’re living in. While I do try to keep the discourse kid- (teen?-) appropriate, you’re smart, and it’s important to be informed. I am hopeful that as 2021 progresses, we’ll see a return to stability and civility, and you’ll continue to pay attention.

Now and then we manage to drag you out of your room to engage in an activity, and you can be lots of fun. You got two new games for your birthday, and we had a good time playing those. You and your brothers decorated a gingerbread house, which was much more fun than the disastrous construction stage of the process. You can be very patient with your brothers, especially Callum. You and he approach life in a similar way: you’re both quiet, a little nervous, and methodical. He can’t tell a joke with a traditional punchline, which frustrates you, but mostly you gel well with Callum. You two seem to understand each other.

The other day, in a rare moment of shared introspection, you told me that even though you don’t like COVID-19 and all the changes it’s brought, you appreciate that it got you out of a bunch of things you didn’t want to do. I think you were referring to the sixth grade track and field day, the spring session of Let Me Run, and possibly piano lessons. I know there are things you miss, like sleepovers with your friends, the Filmscene animation summer camp, and your favorite restaurants, but a calm lifestyle suits you.

We really have slowed our lives down. I was looking through my calendar from last year, trying to figure out when your last doctor’s appointment was, and I was astounded by how full it was of commitments and activities. Now I feel like I can’t handle accepting a grocery delivery and a Zoom PTO meeting on the same day. Back when you were doing some distance running, speed was never a priority for you. Sometimes we’d go out on weekend training runs together, and I was astounded by your lack of interest in even the smallest speed interval. And yet, you always made it to the finish line. I might have had time to go inside, take a shower, and make a sandwich before meeting you there, but you always made it.

Your biggest birthday gift was a phone. It’s not brand new—it’s your dad’s old phone, but wiped clean with a new battery and a shiny new red phone case. We haven’t gotten phone service on it yet, because you don’t actually go anywhere these days, but that will come at some point down the road. In the meantime, you can still use it as your personal wifi device. You’ve gotten your accounts all set up, and I’m excited to be able to text you and send you memes. It surprises me how often I see something on the Internet and want to share it with you. I’m already excited for the moment when I find a really good one, send it to you, and hear you laugh in your room down the hall.

Your current favorites: playing with your phone, pasta with homemade tomato sauce, being a hermit, The Simpsons, Minecraft, Among Us, sleeping late, stretching out your Christmas candy supply to make it last until Easter, and smiling begrudgingly for photos with your mouth closed. One of these days, when we feel confident going to non-essential medical appointments, you’ll get braces. Then we probably won’t see your teeth for two years.

Thank you for making me a mother a little over 13 years ago, my dear Miles. It’s been hard in a lot of ways, but it’s also been the most satisfying and worthwhile experience of my life. I love you more than Homer loves Duff beer.

Love,

Mom