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Playing with FaceApp on my phone - what WILL these younguns come up with next? The photo above is a reasonable facsimile of fourteen year old me had my father not beat me into the closet when I was nine. The smile, however, is entirely the product of the uncanny software. I cried all day after creating twelve year old Andrea
But the title pic goes with the story I wrote over ten years ago, The First Time.
He reached down and found his glasses that had fallen in one of his sneakers. Putting them on, he looked once again down the block, straining to see the light from her bedroom. He loved her, such as it was for a fourteen year old boy in his mother's slip and panties on a Thursday night. He bit his tongue as the tears began to fall as freely as the rain outside his bedroom window. He hated himself, and he gave up, laying his head on the window sill, weeping quietly. He was filled with shame and sadness, and he thought just how horrible his life had become. And he felt hopeless...
It's taken me almost as long as this story is old to come to grips with Andrea as whom I have been all along, due in no small part to my sweet Tracey's love and acceptanceas well as the love and encouragement I've received here.
AND creating the pics has been restorative as well as fun. At 69 it actually feels like I might finally be able to emerge from my closet even as I am supremely grateful for THIS closet. Hoping I can muster the courage to at least introduce my son and daughter in law to Andrea, even it the beginnings remain here within the expressions I have been blessed to share
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huggles
in the closet or out, you're still our sweet Drea.
In my heart
In my heart you are exactly that one sweet girl.
Hugs!
You got this Drea! Hugs!
Have delightfully devious day,