He talked non-stop about metaphysics and other esoterica at the dinner table and his eyes would light up when he noticed ours start to roll and glaze over—he, being her or hir or zhim or zir (me being me, too thick to ask which he preferred).
He being Jaime, who towards the end, saw every sharp corner as a place to rub his wrists. Who at that point, could find a jagged edge in a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.
Jamie, who would eventually confess that he felt a shining truth spinning inside and if he could just cut a few holes, here and there—it would burst out in blinding rays.
Ok fine, but what was the rush? The HRT was working and my mom even found it in her to call him beautiful. Anyways, I’ve been taking note of who doubles over when they hear the news….
You would be surprised Jaime, to see love coming out of the woodwork, though I’m sure you would hate the words they’re using today:
because it implies fear.
because it implies choice.
because it implies that there are others.
As my uncle stumbles over pronouns and nomenclature, I look out to see the sky being pulled in every direction and I think about her—being pulled like that, every which way, when suddenly bright columns descend through the low clouds, illuminating the heartland.
A slow rain follows and immediately I know that the dark fathoms between us can and will be traversed at the speed of light.