Dear ArteMiles,

As those closest to you know, you prefer the name Artemis these days. You’ve named yourself after the (male) protagonist of the Artemis Fowl book series, but I think you also like the gender ambiguity of it. Choosing a new name and/or pronouns is a common occurrence in your peer group. It seems like two-thirds of the time you mention a friend, it’s a name I’ve never heard of, or even a word I’ve never heard of. Then, when I asked if I’ve ever known that person by another name, you get annoyed with me. Apparently it’s gauche to make reference to someone’s “dead name.” Look, I get it. I understand what it’s like to be in the life stage where forging one’s identity feels like the most important thing ever. But I also need to know that if you say you’re going to your friend Xendryth’s house, Xendryth actually someone you’ve known since elementary school and I already know their parents. Sometimes the problem arises that Xendryth’s parents don’t know that Xendryth goes by Xendryth, and I’m in the awkward position of trying to figure out how to talk to the parents about the hangout. It’s a lot.

Your dad and I are taking the overall approach of stepping back, letting you set your own identifiers and control your own life within the confines of reason and safety. One thing I know for sure is that you know we love you. I’m glad you feel comfortable telling us important things about yourself. I can’t say for sure what your future will hold, but I’m glad you’re as certain as I am that I will be here for you.

Photo by Gary Clarke

I really can’t complain. Even as you sort out who you are and who you want to be, you continue to be a good kid. You’re getting excellent grades, keeping up with band and Family Folk Machine, and forging strong friendships. You don’t complain about wearing your back brace or doing physical therapy. You sometimes get snippy with your brothers, but that’s nothing new. You also spend a lot of time playing Minecraft and Mario Maker with them, and you never make a fuss when I need you to be in charge for a while when your dad and I go somewhere. You still sing under your breath as you putter around the house, and while you get a kick out of presenting an acerbic face to the world, you honestly seem happier than ever.

You enjoyed still being enough of a kid to go trick-or-treating, but enough of a teenager to do it with school friends and to hang out in someone’s garage afterward. We’re a bit cautious about letting you out into the world, with COVID rates on the rise again and your little brothers not yet fully vaccinated. They’re one shot into the series, though, and that’s a big relief. Last week you told me about weekend plans to go to the mall to celebrate a friend’s birthday (one of those new friends who may or may not be someone I’ve ever heard of because the name is new to everyone). You didn’t specify particular plans at the mall—not a movie, not ice skating, nothing except general hanging-out. I wasn’t crazy about the idea, as a friend of mine recently reported that mask-wearing at the mall was virtually non-existent, and it’s always crowded on a Saturday afternoon. On the other hand, you are fully vaccinated and quite trustworthy about wearing your mask. It’s the sort of thing I would have done with friends at your age, and I don’t want my own fears to do damage to your personal development. As it turned out, the plans fell through, and you ended up hanging out with me that afternoon. We went for a walk around the neighborhood and had family cocktail hour on the balcony.

It was a relief to me in the short term, because in this world full of uncertainty, what I want most is to keep my beloved people close to me at all times. I also recognize that this is an unrealistic goal and not a healthy one in the long term, as I’m not trying to create a Norman Bates situation. Every parent of a teenager has to sort out that tension between allowing freedom and applying boundaries, and this pandemic only makes the decisions harder. We’re anticipating the day when your brothers are fully-vaccinated and we can accept the mitigated risk of living with fewer restrictions. Though our vaccines won’t protect us completely, they will almost certainly protect us from serious complications of COVID, and that is probably a reasonable compromise.

Unless of course all the COVID+ deer that hang out in our yard are harboring dangerous new variants, but that’s another ulcer for another day.

We had a good experience with Family Folk Machine this fall. It was an entirely outdoor session, rehearsals and the performance. I was proud to sing a duet with you, “Ain’t No Hole in the Washtub” from Emmet Otter’s Jugband Christmas. Tobin played bass, and between the three of us, we had a nice little family performance. I’m not sure Family Folk Machine has a perfect spot for you right now, since you’re too big for the kids’ activities, and the adults aren’t exactly your crowd either. There aren’t a lot of teens involved at the moment. It will be interesting to see how your role evolves. I was hoping you would join your school jazz band, but you didn’t want to do that, so I told you that you needed to continue with Family Folk Machine in order to keep music in your life. Also, selfishly, I enjoy that it’s something we do together. You were my first Family Folk Machine buddy when you were just a little preschooler, and I’ve so enjoyed having it be a special activity for us. Hopefully some more teens will get on board so make it a little more fulfilling for you.

Photo by Gary Clarke

Your current favorites: video games, texting with your friends, pasta with homemade tomato sauce, watching the show Foundation with your dad, throwing your socks on the floor, and engaging in witty-but-insulting banter with Tobin over the dinner table. Your dad and I don’t like it, but you two crack each other up. It’s hard for me to listen to, because you are two-thirds of the people I cherish most in the entire world, and I hate to hear you being mean to each other. And yet, it seems to be a bonding exercise of sorts. You are confusing.

The day you were born, I looked at your swollen little face and wondered about all the things I had yet to learn about you. I’m still learning. You’re still learning. I loved you then, I love you now, and I will love you no matter what shape your future takes.

Excerpt from “On Children” by Kahlil Gibran:

…

     Your children are not your children.
     They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
     They come through you but not from you,
     And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

     You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
     For they have their own thoughts.
     You may house their bodies but not their souls,
     For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

…

I want you to have your own thoughts and to dwell in the house of tomorrow. But today, I’m glad you dwell in the house with me.

Love,

Mom