I'm supposed to be working on a new invention but tonight my mind is somewhere else, it's set on my kids and how very distant we've grown. And every mother has to wonder why and where that space comes from and how we can ever get close again.

When children are young their parents are gods. They can fix anything from, uh-oh's to boo boos. If there's a problem their children will run to them and seek their help and advice, if something's broken they know mommy and daddy will repair it, and if they hurt themselves they'll tell their parents in detail what happened while mommy or daddy makes their pain all better.

But those times cannot last. Children get older and learn to assert their independence, they learn to be tougher, they learn to keep secrets, they learn how to lie to their once highly praised gods. Suddenly mommy and daddy are just two prying nuisances in their lives. They aren't the problem fixers anymore.

Kids decide that they can fix their own problems and mend their own wounds. When in reality they really need their parents' assitance. But they've also gained a sense of pride, one that makes them feel defenseless to ask for help.

I sighed as I saw my son walk through the door holding his arm in pain. He drags his feet along the carpet and he's hunched over and winces with every step. Dust is present in his hair and on his shirt, I can't tell if it's on his face because his raven hair which seems to be wet with sweat is hanging in front of it.

I want to leap up and see whats wrong with my baby, but he doesn't look my way before he stumbles up the stairs. I get up from the table and my machine and stand at the bottom of the stair case. I can see a smudge of blood on my wall, it must've come from him.Now I'm terrified, what's happening to him?

This is not something I should overlook, I have to see my baby, even if he doesn't want it. I tred quietly up the stairs and towards his door. I hesitate for a moment and wonder if I'm overreacting, what if it's nothing. But it could be something and my maternal instincts tell me to be more worried than layed back.

I open the door and I see him on his bed with the first aid kit, he doesn't acknowledge my enterance as he cleans the wound on his upper arm skillfuly, he's clearly done this before.

"Danny..." I wanted to say his name loudly but all that came out was a dull whisper.

He turned his head towards me his raven locks still covering his face. I walk over and sit beside him on his bed and he drops his rag and looks at me. "Mom I..." He tries to come up with a quick explantion, but I hush him.

I brush his hair from his face and stare into those two beautiful blue eyes, since when did he become so jaded. I pick up his rag and finish cleaning his wound. He doesn't stop me or push me away, he lets me do this. I clean and properly bandage the gash in his arm, when I'm finished he looks thoughtfully at his arm.

After blinking a few times he quickly wraps me in a hug. I cannot believe it he doesn't hug me very often, but I wrap my arm around him pressing his head to my shoulder. For one moment he isn't the tough teenager he's just a kid, a hurt frightend kid.He doesn't seem to care that he's depending on his mother, he surrendered to me. Even if it's just a moment.

He mutters something tiredly it sounded to me like' I love you mom.'

"I love you too sweetie."

Before I knew it he'd fallen asleep, poor kid he's always so tired. I wonder what he's been doing all this time. But for now I'm just glad he's alright, and that he let me help him. No matter how old he is and no matter how much he refuses to admit it my son will always be my little Danny.