I got to spend some really wonderful minutes with my younger cousin today. When I say younger, I mean 1 whole year. He’s Mr. Nice Guy. Literally Mr. BHS– I think his picture hangs in the hallowed hallways of our high school. We talked about our adolescence. About the way the sometimes toxic, tender frailty of our childhood that we chiseled ourselves from, comes back to remind us that we, most likely, were supposed to be a statistic– -that despite our shortcomings and our regrets, we could have “ended up” so much worse.
Sometimes, not often, I step outside of myself for a moment. I don’t know where I go. I did it tonight though and for a few fleeting minutes I saw him. I know what he looks like– but listening to him speak, to reclaim his past, to be here now with me, I saw him. I can’t recall if I have ever seen him before.
30-something Mississippi queer. Bleeding heart with a soft spot for honesty and oversharing. Conquering corporate America and my own insecurities– one day at a time.