Right around the ripe old age of 13, my son concluded that I wasn’t very bright. It took me a while to notice this because he never actually said it. Something was telling in the tone of his long drawn out sighs and the tenor of his voice when he said, “Muuuuuuuum!”
When I was 9, I experienced my first kiss with a girl from my class. She was my best friend, and we practiced kissing each other when I spent the night at her apartment. At the same time, I learned in church that a human’s default sexual setting was straight. Anything else was gay, which also meant evil. I didn’t understand that at the time, but I absorbed it.
Jamie was my desk mate in 8th grade. She was vivacious, fearless, and funny. All of the adults called her a bad girl. Every kid wanted to be her friend.
When I was four-years-old, my family lived in an Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi. Townhouses lined up side-by-side in our neighborhood. Every house was a different color. It was like living in a box of crayons.