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But the parents are proud that they were able to help Mike with his social skills along with his intellectual skills. Melissa told CNBC that people expected “Young Sheldon” before they met her son. Young Sheldon is a television show about a child talent who is an indoor man and lacks social skills. “But once they talk to Mike, they understand that he’s just a normal 14-year-old that happens to be able to do amazing things,” said Melissa.

Mark and Melissa got to know about their child’s intelligence when he entered preschool. A child psychologist told them that their son would need a different course to support his fast-track development. Many parents aren’t comfortable with putting their children with 18-year-olds, but Mike’s parents saw the value in letting their child go through it. “I wanted him to be social and be able to deal with all the different personalities in the classrooms with older children,” said Melissa.

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When reading, my mother likes to slice a paragraph or a sentence out and attach it to the wall of her kitchen. She picks boring sentences that puzzle me. But I prefer copying favorite bright lines into a journal in soft, gray No. 2 pencil, word by word.

She doesn’t know any of this. There’s nothing shocking: for our chatting. We seldom begin certain conversations though we talk on the phone weekly, sometimes making each other laugh so hard that I choke and she cries. But what we don’t say could fill up rooms. Fights with my father. Small failures in school. Anything that really upsets us.

My mother has never told me “I love you, Lisa.” — as if the four-word absence explains who I am — so I carry it with me, like a label on me. The last time she almost spoke the words was two years ago, when she called to tell me a friend had been in hospital. I said, “I love you, Mom.” She stopped for a while and then said, “Thank you.” I haven’t said it since, but I’ve wondered why my mother doesn’t until I’ve found a poem that supplies words for the blank spaces I try to understand in our conversations:

Don’t fill up on bread. I say absent-mindedly. The servings here are huge.

My son, middle-aged, says: Did you really just say that to me?

What he doesn’t know is that when we’re walking together, I desire to reach for his hand.

It’s humble, yet heartbreaking. After copying it down in my journal, I emailed it to mom, adding “This poem makes me think of you.” My mother doesn’t read poetry — or at least, she doesn’t tell me, and I felt nervous clicking “Send”.

She never mentioned the poem. But the next time I went home for vacation, I noticed something new in the kitchen fixed to an antique board: the poem. The board hung above the heater, the warmest spot in the kitchen. The poem still hangs there. Neither my mother nor I have ever spoken about it.

My younger cousin faces a similar challenge. She has a huge birthmark that takes up her whole arm. Her birthmark is pretty noticeable and looks like faded red splotches of paint. She’s never tried to hide her birthmark or change her appearance. It really inspires me. She has always been so much more confident about her birthmark than I am. Once, her grandmother told her mom that her birthmark looked extremely prominent and suggested that she should wear long sleeves more often. If my younger cousin’s mom had actually taken that suggestion, my younger cousin wouldn’t be as confident about her birthmark as she is.