Thoughts of Home

Twilight descends, and the world dons a quiet sepia veil. Gentle aches begin to tug at the heartstrings, awakening forgotten memories thought lost to time.

It is then that my mind wanders back to yesteryears, to the places I once knew so well.

And the innocence of home...when life was simple and the world seemed accepting and filled with kindness.

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I return to the attic of my memories, where dust competes with lazy sunbeams, up there where cardboard boxes harbor secrets, old letters and faded dreams.

The scent of mothballs mingles with the odor of summer rain and I trace the contoured walls of childhood, like a worn-out refrain of old nostalgic songs.

I remember the apple tree, gnarled and wise? Its branches which once cradled our laughter, our childish lies, as we climbed toward the sky, barefoot and wild, our hearts innocent, cares blown to the wind.

I remember the creek that meandered through fields of gold, its water...cool and clear, the fun we had splashing.

We skipped stones, chasing ripples, our pockets heavy with pebbles, I wonder if each one carried a piece of eternity, a secret for us to unravel.

The old swing by the porch, creaking, as it carried our dreams higher than the tallest oak limb. We swung toward the sunset, toes grazing the sky, did we believe, back then, that we could touch the horizon if we dared to try.

Moonlit nights were our treasured favorite times, when fireflies waltzed and we wished upon stars, our breaths mingling.

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But seasons change, and so did we, we scattered like leaves in autumn’s breeze.

Now, I sit by a different window, gazing at distant hills, yearning for the simplicity of moments that time writes in invisible ink, books waiting to be deciphered.

Homesickness cocoons me like a warm blanket. And though I’ve wandered far, chasing winds and sunsets, I carry those time-written memories, like the sweet ache of vignettes, brief and evocative.

The old swing, the apple tree, the creek and fireflies that pirouetted secrets we vowed to keep. May they live forever in the quiet corners of our hearts!

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The backyard barbecue with some fabulous guys and how this changed my perspective, defining innocence, acceptance, reality and personal growth.

Skewers and Unexpected Bonds

The sun peeked inquisitively low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the neatly trimmed lawn. The air smelled of charcoal and camaraderie as I stepped into the backyard. Laughter and smoke intermingled, creating an invisible cocoon of friendship..

It was a barbecue, but not just any barbecue. This one had a twist: it was hosted by my friend's son and his partner, Alex and Gregor, two guys who knew how to turn a mundane gathering into a glittering affair.

Alex, who sported electric blue hair and vintage band tees, manned the grill, while Gregor was the cocktail wizard, mixing drinks with flair and a dash of sass.

As I sipped my drink, a concoction of gin and something exotic, I surveyed the scene. The backyard was festooned with colorful lights, and a playlist of strange anthems floated through the air. The guests were an eclectic mix: drag queens, artists, tech geeks, and a retired librarian who could out-sass anyone. It was a strange gathering, and I was an eager observer.

I struck up a conversation with a woman named Maia, and we talked about her journey, coming out, finding chosen family, and the healing power of finding friendly spaces. Her words resonated, and I realized that being different wasn’t just about who you loved; it was about resilience, authenticity, and rewriting the rules.

They recited poetic verses of heartache and hope, and I hung on every word. Their vulnerability was a revelation. They spoke of identity as a kaleidoscope, ever-shifting and multifaceted. I thought about the rigid boxes society had tried to fit me into, female, male, straight, conforming, and how limiting they felt.

As the sun dipped even lower, Alex handed me a skewer loaded with grilled veggies. “Rainbow skewer", he said, winking. Each vegetable was a different color...red peppers, yellow squash, green zucchini. It hit me then: their world was like that skewer. A vibrant blend of flavors, each distinct yet harmonious. It wasn’t just about sexuality; it was about embracing the full spectrum of human experience.

Gregor appeared, balancing a tray of colorful cupcakes. “Life’s too short for beige", he declared. We laughed, and I realized that their lives weren’t just about pride parades and glitter—it was about joy, about claiming space unapologetically.

As the night deepened, we gathered around a crackling bonfire. Someone strummed an acoustic guitar, and we sang...off-key and exuberant. Alex, Gregor and everyone danced under the stars. I watched them, my heart swelling. Acceptance wasn’t an abstract concept anymore; it was flesh and bone, laughter and tears.

When I left that night, I carried more than just memories. I carried a newfound appreciation for life's choices, the creativity, the audacity. I realized that my own journey was still unfolding, that I could be an ally, an advocate, a better friend. And maybe, just maybe, I’d find my own rainbow skewer of authenticity.

That backyard barbecue changed me. I saw not a label, but a celebration. It was the courage to be unapologetically yourself, surrounded by people who saw your colors and loved you for them.

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