Independence Day is my personal coming-out day; I wrote about it last year if you want the gory details. This year I celebrated with Bailey's in my coffee and the Cubs on TV. They went on to lose horribly, but the coffee was good.
Seven years is simultaneously a lifetime and the blink of an eye, at least to me, at least when that's how long I've been out. It's nothing and it's everything.
Seven years out in America, all of them fortunately spent in Tucson, flitted through my head last night as I sat on the roof watching the fireworks. Friends who got it immediately, family members who didn't then and still don't now, the girlfriend who turned into a best friend, the one who didn't. The shock to the system of suddenly having a label affixed that explained the lifelong sense of difference and separation from what I was expected to be. What I tried to be with little success.
The day came and went with no fanfare, as maybe it shouldn't. Just another day in an ordinary life.
1 comment:
Congrats! It should be a non-event, but its still worthy of celebration in some way. For anyone to just be themselves, especially regarding this issue, is always worthy of recognition and honor.
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