A Fuse Meant to Light
I left the book on the couch. Mom sparked a conversation. “I see it’s about a gay man. Do you think you might be?” “Doesn’t everyone wonder at some point?” “Perhaps. Uncle Mike is gay; you know we love him.” The book ignited my innermost thoughts but I wasn’t ready. I quietly stored her words like dry fuses. Three years later, on July 4, Uncle Mike’s birthday, with my brother alongside, I declared my independence. “I always knew,” Mom said. “Love you,” Dad replied. Surrounded by family and fireworks, I finally lit the fuse that illuminated my true colors. — Joshua J. Feyen
The Deep, Stirring Scent
Lilacs were blooming the first time we went to his country house a decade ago. He trimmed some and put them in a bottle, their scent deep and sweet and stirring. I took a picture of those purple petals on his porch, our sunglasses carelessly kissing on the table. For seven years after we ended, still in love with him, I studied that picture, telling myself, “flowers grow back; lilacs are perennial; we will bloom again.” And we have. Last week he left fresh lilacs on my night table, and we fell asleep tangled together in the sweet deep air. — Melissa Castelli
