I must have been an impervious child. I seemed not to notice things around me. I wasn’t aware of when people were talking about me, and when they weren’t.

Sometimes I faded into the woodwork. People would look at me in the third person and say, “Is he here?” I was, and didn’t see why they didn’t notice. I guess I was beneath notice and they weren’t looking down.

Maybe I was being self-protective to not notice things that otherwise could harm me. But that could lead to not noticing other things. I don’t think I fully noticed how much my Father missed my Mother when she was not around.

I don’t even remember noticing my Mother being pregnant with what would have been my younger brother, and when she lost the baby at home and we sat around the kitchen table surrounding the little shape the doctor had delivered on house call, I didn’t understand it all, but maybe just enough.

I think I must have grown up being impervious. It’s almost as if I don’t let the world in because of what it can do to me. But then I think I’ve opened myself to the world, so maybe I’m impervious and not at the same time.

I’ll think about that. I can’t seem to keep out my thoughts, I just have to learn to deal with them. I must be semipervious.

I think it’s good to know who you are.

I’m not impervious to myself.