checking in

This is my Christmas bonus: a beep from deep in my purse. I fish out my phone and read the text that's waiting: "Hi. Merry Christmas." I smile. He has followed through again; I expected or at least hoped for some word, but, life happens, especially in their world. One never knows. When I reply, he asks for my e-mail to tell me what's happening. I am pleased. I try to be patient. I check my address for typos, just in case. I realize he didn't promise to write immediately, and I go back to my day. I'll hear from him eventually, I'm sure.

Although we have since been through college applications and registrations and essays together, I haven't seem this boy--this young man--since he graduated in what must have been '05, a high school generation ago. I should have him come in and speak to my current crop, to tell them about life in the world. He knows better than I.

In the meanwhile, I hope he doesn't have much of an update to give me; I hope life is drama-free. I hold out little hope that it's been easy; I'm curious, but not too concerned. Someone who can work 60 hours each week and pass 12 hours of college classes at the same time can do about anything, it seems to me. I hope, somehow, that he is. I check my in box again, just to see. Of all the kids I've known, he's the one who has most stood up to circumstances, who has refused to be defeated, who has taken his life in his hands. I hope my image is still reality; I hope nothing has changed.