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A Walk On the Beach with Mom
Copyright 2025 by Heather Rose Brown
The ocean holds many secrets. Unfortunately, it doesn't hold many answers. At least, not the kinds of answers a gender questioning kid might be looking for. But sometimes, if you're lucky, you can find something on the shores of that ocean more precious than you might have hoped to discover.
=-=-=
Watching the pink nail polish on my fingers and toes sparkle as I strolled along the beach with my mom shouldn't have been that big of a deal. I mean, I'd never worn polish before, but that didn't really explain the happiness bubbling up in me. Or maybe ... it did?
I took in a deep breath of the cool, salty air, then let out a long sigh. One of the larger waves rolled inland just far enough to splash me up to my ankles. The bubbles tickled my bare feet, turning the end of my sigh into a giggle.
Mom slid her arm under my hair and across my bare shoulders, then drew me closer while asking, "Are you feeling a little less nervous now about going out of the house now?"
I squinted to keep the afternoon sun out of my eyes while looking up at my mom. After taking a few moments to think, I nodded and said, "I guess I am." I grinned, then added, "At least the beach fashion police ain't tried to arrest me for wearing a halter top with baggy jeans."
My mom grinned back, then asked, "Are you sure you're not a girl?"
I shrugged and looked out at the ocean. I knew there were no answers out there. Still, seeing those deep, ancient waters doing their own thing without having to explain why filled me with a sense of peace. Eventually, I looked back at my mom and said, "I dunno ... maybe."
Mom's eyes shimmered with warmth in the shadow of her sunhat. "I guess that's what our summer of discovery is all about," she said while giving me a one-armed hug.
My squint turned lopsided when I asked "Our summer of discovery? I thought it was just me who's discovering what I really am."
A gentle gust of wind blew a few strands of my hair into my mom's face. She let go of my shoulder and reached up to hold her hat down. Once the wind grew still, she said, "It's more like me discovering if I'm the mother of a very pretty boy, girl, or non-binary child."
A rush of joy flowed through me, until it started leaking through the corners of my eyes. I stopped walking and said, "Oh Mom ..."
My mom stopped a moment later, then turned to me and asked, "Are you okay, honey?"
I nodded, took a step towards Mom, then wrapped my arms around her. After a few tries, I managed to whisper, "Thank you."
She held me close, then stroked the back of my head while saying, "Of course, sweetheart. But ... what exactly are you thanking me for?"
"For ..." I said as something warm and damp rolled down my cheek, "for ... letting me be me."
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Comments
Sometimes, it's the little things.
Or, at least, the simple ones. "Thank you for letting me be me." Reminds me of that lovely old Quaker hymn. "'Tis a gift to be simple. 'Tis a gift to be free. 'Tis a gift to come down where you ought to be."
Also loved the "deep, ancient waters doing their own thing without having to explain why."
Thank you, Heather.
— Emma
Ah, yes, the Simple Gifts
It should be a simple thing to let people be themselves if it’s not hurting anyone else.
But we are surrounded by people who fear the differences and strive to control and stamp them out.
Gillian Cairns
Very little said
But it spoke volumes.
That simple phrase tells us that this vignette was a long time coming. It didn't just happen. It was planned and preceded with a bit of angst and misgiving. That phrase also tells us that the real story has just begun to unfold.
Simple, concise and full of promise.
Hugs
Patricia
Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper in femineo gerunt
Ich bin ein femininer Mann
A parent that cares at all...
I'm envious of the main character there. Not so much even that their mother is supportive, but that she seems to care at all.
I've come to the conclusion that my parents didn't really care, they just didn't want me to be a bother. As long as I didn't ask them for anything and didn't make them look bad, they were happy to ignore me.
even if the ignore they lost.
our own choices can't be changed by them. Just by ignore it they already accepted it, they just don't know them self.
In a way also a "support"
letting me be me."
that is a wonderful gift to give, or to receive
lovely story. Thank you for sharing it, huggles!
Thank you for all your comments!
I've been struggling a lot lately trying to write more than a few hundred words. My muse definitely is active, but it tend to wander off to something new and interesting before I can finish writing down the start of the first story. Knowing people are reading my stories, even though they're really short, means an awful lot to me. On top of that, people are commenting, which is kinda amazing, and wonderful! So thank you everyone who's posted comments, hit the kudos button, or just gave my little story a look. :)
Welcome to my world
I think your muse and my muse must be relate or at least soul mates. When my muse isn't attracted to some new shinny storyline, she's off gallivanting in parts unknown; likely taking a sun break.
Hugs
Patricia
Happiness is being all dressed up and HAVING some place to go.
Semper in femineo gerunt
Ich bin ein femininer Mann
*giggling*
I think you may be right! I woke up even earlier than usual this morning when my muse was nosing around this story. I'm not sure if she'll wander off into the sunshine before stirring up enough interesting ideas to continue this story, but if I can collect enough whisps to weave together something interesting, I'll post it here. If not ... well, maybe our muses can romp around together somewhere warm and sunny. :)