I’ll just leave it at that for now.

I know this text is short, vague, and its serious tone has your mind racing. I also know that I could have provided any amount of additional detail to perhaps ease your thoughts, but that’s not something I chose to do. Texting is very difficult on this tiny keyboard, even though I use it to write full essays on my friend’s Facebook posts.

Any suspense you’re left feeling may not be warranted.Though it may be. You’ll find out when we talk. Because we need to  —  ASAP. How am I supposed to know that you’ll be in meetings for the next four hours and will be left reeling over this text, unable to concentrate on anything your coworkers say? Perhaps you shouldn’t worry so much; I’ve noticed you’re getting a lot of gray hair lately. Though sometimes worry is warranted… like it may be for this text.

Could I have expressed exactly what it is we need to talk about in roughly the same number of characters? Probably, yes. But that would have required extraneous thought about how to craft a meaningful message, and you know I prefer rambling to you live on the phone. Besides, don’t you want to talk to your own mother?

Is it as urgent or serious as it sounds? I can’t say — not right now at least. And there is literally no way that I know of to convey emotion via text, besides “hilarity,” which all moms know to mark with a dozen crying faces. What we need to talk about is not hilarious. You will not cry laughing. Though you may or may not cry.

You may have heard that “no news is good news”? Well, this is definitely news. Sort of. I mean, it would classify as news for moms everywhere, which includes everything from it being “kind of sunny out today” to “I know it’s only July, but I had a thought about Christmas this year.”

Is it about the stack of porno magazines in your childhood bedroom? It might be. After all, you did notice they were missing last time you visited. I may have found them, or your kid brother may have. If the former, I may be very disappointed in your sexual palate. Call me back, so we can perhaps talk about your sexual palate.

Am I entirely aware that this text will make you squirm? How dare you. I’m your mother, and I would never wish suffering upon you. But, at the same time, you haven’t called me since last Sunday. Do you think about how I suffer when you don’t call for weeks at a time? I bet you’re too busy ogling porno mags to even care.

Anyway, call me. ASAP. We need to talk… about how I saw your first grade teacher, Mrs. Bogner, at the grocery store. She said you were her favorite student, and she says “hi.” That’s all.

But also, your father has cancer. Well, he has a lump. Too soon to tell.