dear mom

dear mom,

it’s me, your

daughter

speaking. actually, it’s just your

kid

speaking, because because even though my genes are branded with a double ‘X’, they are only a puzzle piece in a mosaic of dna telling me who i am, and who i am is not

‘your little girl’.

kid

speaking, because there’s a separation between the science of chromosomes and the pulses of lightning flashing through my neurons

trading math for art

the solvable for the inexplicable.

kid

speaking, because my body was ice and it has thawed, transforming me into the river that i knew was always there. and i am a river

flowing and fast and certain and powerful and free,

finally free.

kid

speaking, because i know it is hard for you to bring an image into focus, when you’ve been seeing only a distortion of my soul though rose-colored glasses

my entire life.

kid

speaking, because you’ve told me that you will try to understand me, anyway.

and so i will try to tell you who i am.

here it goes:

dear mom,

it’s me, your kid, speaking. and i might not be a girl, but that doesn’t change who i am. it doesn’t change the fact that my favorite color is a very specific shade of neon blue, or that i think a lot about the character development of roger davis, or that i will always write thank-you notes to buster for being a great dog, or that

you are a better mom than i am a kid

you have never not been there for me

you will never not care.

i love you.

-ness