blocked

One of the bunnies is nearly legal. He’s a good kid, loving, sensible. I trust him.

He blocked me.

He, who laughingly told me that it was ridiculous to seek privacy in Facebook, that transparency was the whole point of it, apparently decided that he needed a bit of space, that he needed to close his door sometimes from the eyes of his mama, even though I think in several months I have looked in on his page no more than once or twice.

Who am I to question his search for privacy? I, who struggle so much with this new ouverture of our lives and souls to the world? I’m quite content to be off his friends list, really… in a way it’s kind of nice to regain that privacy for myself, too, to return to the adults’ room. But it’s an illusion, for while he retreats to a sea of knowns and unknowns full of youth, I retreat to my own, filled with people of a certain age, and each of us share ourselves with total strangers things that we find too personal to share with one another.

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