Stain-glass Eyes

I wanted to update this post which I wrote exactly one year and a day ago.  Holden is he.  He is him, himself, his, Holden.  A man.  It felt good to go through this old post and fix my errors in gender for him. The Little Brave, With Holden's Face I’m a person who gives a lot o thought to the "Why” of things,  I wasn’t shocked or overwhelmed when my son ,wrote me the  "Important Long Letter For You”. He started it..."Dear Most Beautiful Mom”.  The letter explained his longing to change his gender. He's planning on having  "Top Surgery" in the next six months.  He offered me links to find out more about this procedure. He didn’t hesitate to include me.  He confirmed I could absolutely be by his side, during surgery and a couple of weeks after to be a mom.  He is now Holden. Holden has continually blossomed from birth to the beautiful 23 year old, he is now.  I wanted him to have all the space he needed, to be himself.  I wanted him to expl

I discarded my first language. Allowing new words to ensue. Initially I stumbled and forgot. Now they come naturally, they melt like chocolate in the hot sun. Smoother and sweeter still. Past pronouns suffocate without use. His-him-he, breathe fresh air. They give life to Holden, Strengthen and embody his gender. My accomplishment feels powerful. Holden’s past is history. Only a fragment of his whole. By pushing through his veneer, he has become himself. A Holden who was there all along. Holden’s resolve to be himself, an uncompromised person, in spite of all his obstacles, gives new depth to love  I will always have for him. His Top-Surgery is rescheduled. I want to be there, to hold his hand. Before…during…after his surgery. There to nurture, to love and be needed. My tears fall, rejecting the possibility of not being included. I am challenged to set aside my role. As mother, protector, woman of sustenance,

Shore of Lake Superiro at Whitefish Point Summertime adventures.  Seems like you get them whether you plan them or not. I recently traveled to my home-town, St. Ignace, to stay with my mom.   I’m home when I can see the bridge in the distance and begin to ride over it’s tremendous expanse.   Blue, glistening water.  Small green islands in the distance.  Mackinac Island in view on the right.  The “Turtle” looks relieved the ice has finally melted and summer is here.  His face, by the old Roundhouse lighthouse, smiles as each wave washes away the winter chill. Today Mom and I are in Paradise.  Seriously, Paradise is Paradise.  You have to plan ahead, but being here is worth the packing.  Food, warm and cold weather clothes… Mom even brought two sets of tennis shoes.  She inevitably gets one pair wet in the waves while we’re combing beaches for rocks and fun. We drove through Trout Lake and it makes me happy to see some things don’t change in small U.P. towns.