As I was leaving work one afternoon, I felt a gentle squeeze on my arm. I turned around and immediately recognized the face before me. It was the mother of a student, Joey, I had taught ten years earlier. Joey was one of those kids you just couldn’t forget and certainly wouldn’t want to.
Joey’s mother was unforgettable in her own right. Much like her son, she was always friendly and warm and I could see she hadn’t changed much. She was eager to make small talk and I, too, was excited to catch up with her. I was glad to hear about some of the highlights of her life over the last ten years, but I really couldn’t wait to hear about Joey.
“Can you believe he’s twenty already?” she asked. Honestly, I couldn’t. It seemed like only last week that I was teaching that shy, innocent, inquisitive little boy. My mind flooded with flashbacks of Joey’s playful demeanor and his sensitive, kind, and empathetic manner. He often forgot his homework, was easily distracted, and rarely had tied shoelaces, but he never forgot his smile, was always polite, and constantly made me laugh.
One of the most vivid memories I have of Joey is the great relationship he had with his mom. He was the apple of her eye and, in turn, he adored her immensely. I can still remember how his face would always light up when he’d spot her rushing across the school yard to pick him up at the end of the day. It never mattered to Joey that his mom was usually the last parent to arrive. He knew she’d be there eventually, greeting him with a huge smile and an even bigger hug. I could tell by the way she spoke of Joey during our encounter that their relationship was as strong as ever. She still had a twinkle in her eye when she spoke about her pride and joy.
I was excited to hear how well Joey was doing and was captivated by his mother’s explanation about his possible career path. I offered words of encouragement and best wishes and added that I couldn’t wait to see him accompany his mom to pick up his younger brother from school one day. “He’s going to be so happy to see you,” she said. She was glowing and a big smile stretched across her face as she continued, “Wait until you see how tall he is! You’re not going to believe it’s him. He’s still got the same face, but he’s grown so much. Oh, and, by the way…he came out of the closet. But, you know…he’s my son and I love him anyway.”
There it was…that record-screeching moment ignited by one simple word: anyway. I’m not sure why Joey’s mom felt the need to end her sentence that way, but it definitely stood out to me. Anyway? I repeated the word to myself a million times, wondering if there was a quizzical look on my face that matched the confusing thoughts going through my head.
When I was finally able to focus again, I noticed the genuine smile still on her face and I could tell that she was sincerely proud of her son. I thought about how fortunate Joey was to have a mother he could be open and honest with. I silently said a prayer for him, grateful that he was comfortable in his own skin and had a mother that loved him unconditionally. I hoped that he had never experienced a struggle within himself and never had to worry about coming out or question who he could confide in. At only twenty years old, Joey was already "out of the closet" and had the approval of the person who loved him most in the world. Knowing that not everyone is as fortunate as Joey, I wasn’t surprised that his mother supported him and didn’t feel like she had to hide his truth. He had nothing to be ashamed of and neither did she.
Over the course of the day, I reflected many times about my interaction with Joey’s mother. I couldn’t help but share the pride she felt for her son, but I just couldn’t get that one word, anyway, out of my mind. I wondered what compelled her to emphasize her comment with that word. Was she trying to reassure me that she was okay with her son’s sexuality, or was she trying to reassure herself? Was she trying to subtly let me know that she didn’t know my viewpoints or comfort level with the matter? Was she letting me know that even if I wasn’t comfortable with the situation, she was–and that if I had anything negative to say, I should keep those thoughts to myself? Did she think I might view Joey’s sexuality as “wrong” or judge him–or her–because of it? Was she just nervous and had inadvertently added a word to her otherwise proud statement?
Words are powerful. One small word can seem insignificant, but can make a huge difference in a conversation. A single word can change the entire meaning, or context, of a statement. It’s important to choose your words carefully to ensure that your message is getting across the way you intended and to avoid giving others the chance to make inaccurate assumptions.
I decided I had to stop dwelling on that one word. My encounter with Joey’s mother had been amazing and had left me with an overwhelming feeling of happiness and pride for Joey. I didn’t want to take away from that experience by giving too much power to a single word and overthinking her use of it for no reason. Aside from that one moment when I was startled by her word choice, I was grateful I had run into Joey’s mom and was overjoyed by our conversation…anyway.