Where Should I begin –

It was what every transgirl dreams about. The invite. The twenty year invite where you walk into the reunion with knock’em dead beauty as they try and figure out who you once were because they can’t possibly recognize you anymore. So, where should I begin?

Do I start with finding myself lost in Philip Taylor’s beautiful brown eyes and lovely mop of hair that, had I been built right in the first place, would have me begging to have his babies. And what will I say to his wife. If I flatter her about what a nice find she made in him, will she think I am making a move on her husband? Then when she finds out I was his lab partner in chemistry and a guy, will she recoil in abject horror and spit in my face?

How about all those guys I didn’t have to mentally undress in the locker room to know what studs they were or were not in the school’s hallways? At least now they would understand why I didn’t care one lick about sports. Or why the smell of sweat and chlorine makes me want to run and hide. Would they understand that my mental aversion to clanging metal causing me stress remembering being saved by a coach who knew boys could be jerks once too often? Facing question after question about how I masked my true nature in a sea of naked masculinity would not be fun. Is this where I should begin?

Maybe I could avoid those obvious questions. But, more would remain. Inevitably, I would be walking into the reunion dragging in all the baggage of my youth and the misconceptions of those who rejected me so very long ago for various reasons only to have them possibly renewed by cold and unyielding prejudice. Do I really want to go back and face my past demons and release new ones? Where should I really begin?

Smiling, I tossed my invite into the dustbin, grabbed my purse, and headed out to the car to enjoy a nice night out on the town. I smoothed my skirt as I slipped into my seat, lowered the car’s mirror, checked my makeup, and buckled up. Sitting there in the car all alone thinking about what I had just done, I wondered if I made the right call. I fumbled for a brush in my purse and casually brushed my hair lost in the throws of angry and hopeful thoughts of what possible good it would do me or them anyway if I returned to that cauldron of teenage confusion that was in my past.

The door opened and my guardian angel stepped in behind the wheel and buckled up. He started the car. He softly stroked my arm all the way to my wedding band that symbolized our mutual bond of affection. I turned to him and he gently smiled telling me he loved me and nothing would ever change that. We kissed sweetly and he made me feel all warm inside. He noticed a tear in my eye and captured it with a brush of his finger, brought it to his mouth, and drank it in. He reminded me that he promised to share in my tears of happiness and sadness too. He said I would never be alone and that we were in this journey together forever, through thick and thin.

Then he pulled from his jacket his invite he had received that looked just like the one in the dustbin and asked me where should we begin.

Copyright © 2019 by AuP reviner