He says out of the blue, driving down the rode:
I want to live with you forever, Mom. Because — what if — I’m homeless some day?
Trying to understand what exactly he is trying to say, I reply:
You can always live with me, if you’re down and out or homeless. I would never let you live on the streets. Besides that doesn’t happen to very many people…
[pause to think and choose my words carefully]
… usually if you are willing to work hard (really Melody? homeless people aren’t willing to work hard?) and are smart enough to do well in school (this isn’t going well, because I’ve met homeless who are PhD’s) you will not end up homeless. (Which I know very well isn’t always true. I considered launching into something about mental illness, and drug addiction and family, and job loss being contributing factors.
And then I realized he was just scared and I couldn’t make him understand something that I don’t completely.)
He said:
But what if I can’t find you? If I don’t know where you live?
I said:
You will always know where I am. You can always call me.
(And I found myself explaining about calling collect. )
I will always take your collect call.
