© 2025 by Grace Ann Hansen
July in Austin, Minnesota, brought with it a kind of energy Ellie hadn’t felt in a while. The whole town buzzed about the opening of the new SPAM Museum downtown. For most people, it was just a quirky local event, a fun, family-friendly distraction in the middle of summer. But for Ellie, it meant something bigger: a test. A chance to be out in the world, dressed as herself, in the daylight, with her whole family by her side.
“Let’s go check out the new museum!” Sam Sr. announced that Saturday morning, grinning behind his coffee mug like it was the best idea he’d had in weeks. “We’ve got history in that building, you know.”
Sammy dropped his spoon into his cereal bowl. “Will they have free samples?” he asked, eyes wide.
Alicia chuckled as she poured more milk. “You’re just going for the snacks.”
“I’m going for the facts,” Sam Sr. replied, giving Sammy a playful wink. “And maybe a little nostalgia.”
Ellie looked up from her toast. “Can I wear my skirt?” she asked quietly, eyes flicking toward her mom.
Alicia smiled. “Of course you can. Wear whatever makes you feel good.”
Ellie nodded and excused herself to get ready. Upstairs, she pulled on her denim skirt and light pink t-shirt. The outfit wasn’t fancy, but it felt like her. She brushed her hair back into a low ponytail, added a small silver butterfly clip, and stared at her reflection for a long minute. She looked… normal. Like a regular girl going to the museum with her family. Her heart raced a little, but not from fear, this time, it was something closer to hope.
The new SPAM Museum gleamed in the summer sun, all glass and polished brick with big, colorful banners that read “Welcome to the World of SPAM!” A sculpture of a giant SPAM can sat outside the entrance, towering over the line of families streaming in. Ellie stayed close to Alicia as they approached, her hands curled around the strap of her purse.
“Look at that thing!” Sammy shouted, pointing at the statue. “I bet it could feed a whole school!”
Ellie laughed, surprised at how easily it came out. “Only if the school liked salty meat in a can.”
“Which we do!” Sam Sr. added, holding the door open for them.
Inside, the air smelled like new carpet and clean displays. Bright posters lined the walls, and cheerful employees in blue aprons handed out brochures. One of them, a teen girl with braces and a clipboard, smiled at Ellie and Sammy.
“Welcome! First time here?”
“Yep!” Sammy replied. “We live here, but this is our first visit!”
“Then you’re in for a treat,” she said. “You can take a self-guided tour, and there are interactive exhibits all around. Don’t forget to stop by the tasting kitchen before you leave!”
Ellie glanced around nervously, but no one was staring. Families wandered the aisles, kids tugged on their parents’ hands, and museum staff smiled like it was just another normal day. And maybe it was.
They started in the history section, where big photos showed the invention of SPAM in the 1930s, old factory machines, and black-and-white pictures of workers in assembly lines. Sam Sr. seemed to know half the people in the background.
“Your grandpa worked in this room,” he told Sammy and Ellie. “He used to bring home stories about how hot it got in the summer, packing meat all day.”
“Ew,” Sammy said, crinkling his nose.
“Hey,” Sam Sr. said, nudging him. “That meat paid for your summer camp.”
Ellie moved slowly through the exhibit, reading the descriptions and laughing at a video showing SPAM commercials from the 1950s. She stood next to a display shaped like a giant SPAM sandwich and shook her head. “Did people really eat this with pineapple rings?”
“Still do,” Alicia said with a grin.
They took their time, stopping to read fun facts and pose for pictures. Sammy climbed inside a mock delivery truck and pretended to drive it while Alicia snapped a photo. Ellie stood beside a towering sculpture made entirely of SPAM cans and smiled for the camera. The flash made her blink, but the moment felt real, lighthearted, fun, and most of all, normal.
No one pointed at her. No one whispered. She wasn’t “that kid from school.” She was just Ellie. A kid on a family outing.
They wandered into the World War II section, where displays showed how SPAM became a staple for soldiers. Letters from the front lines mentioned the canned meat like it was treasure. One letter had a soldier’s hand-drawn cartoon of a SPAM mascot saluting.
“I remember my dad talking about this,” Sam Sr. said quietly. “They shipped tons of this stuff overseas. Said it kept better than bread.”
"Look, honey!" Sam boomed, tugging Alicia toward a side room, his voice echoing slightly in the otherwise quiet space. "The Monty Python Spamalot exhibit! I knew it!"
Alicia chuckled, amused by his enthusiasm. She followed him into the room, where a large screen dominated one wall. It was playing a loop of the classic Monty Python "Spam, Spam, Spam" skit. Sam Sr. practically vibrated with excitement.
"Oh, my gosh, Alicia! Look! It's the Spam song!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with an almost reverent awe. He pointed dramatically at the screen, where John Cleese was bellowing about the ubiquitous canned meat.
Ellie and Sammy, initially perplexed, began to giggle as the absurd lyrics of the song washed over them: “Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Lovely Spam! Wonderful Spam!” The sheer absurdity of the situation, a Monty Python skit within a SPAM Museum, was too much for Ellie, even though she had no earthly idea who Monty Python even was, and she laughed with genuine, unburdened joy.
Sam Sr. grabbed Ellie's hand, his own eyes sparkling even more. "This, my little Ellie," he said with a wink, "is true art. High-brow SPAM appreciation! I knew this place wouldn't disappoint."
The interlude, however brief, served its purpose. The laughter, the shared absurdity, created a moment of lightheartedness, easing the tension and reinforcing the family’s supportive and unconventional dynamic. As the skit concluded, Sam Sr. switched his attention to the rest of the exhibit, showing Ellie and Sammy the various SPAM-related merchandise.
Sammy wandered off to a touchscreen display, but Ellie stayed beside her dad.
“Did you ever think you’d end up working for the company that made SPAM?” she asked.
He laughed. “Nope. I wanted to be a baseball player.”
Ellie smiled. “I want to be a veterinarian.”
“You still can,” he said.
Her smile faded a little. “Do you think people will always look at me differently now?”
Sam Sr. paused. “Some might. But I think the right people, the ones who matter, will look at you and just see you.”
Ellie nodded, holding onto that thought like a souvenir.
By the time they reached the tasting kitchen, they caught up with Sammy, who was practically vibrating with excitement.
“There’s a SPAM brownie!” he shouted. “We have to try that!”
“I’ll pass,” Alicia said quickly. “Some boundaries are sacred.”
They grabbed little paper trays and tried different versions: SPAM with rice, SPAM tacos, even SPAM nachos. Ellie took a cautious bite of the rice bowl and smiled.
“This is actually… good?”
“Told you!” Sammy said, his mouth full.
They found a table near the back and sat down to eat. Ellie looked around the room again. There were families of all shapes and sizes, moms, dads, grandparents, kids with backpacks and sticky fingers. Everyone just living their lives. And somehow, that made her feel safer.
“Do you think we’ll come back?” she asked.
“Sure,” Alicia said. “Especially if they add more exhibits.”
Sam Sr. nodded. “Next time we bring Grandma. She’ll love this.”
“And I want a souvenir,” Sammy added. “Like a keychain. Or a T-shirt.”
Ellie looked at the gift shop near the exit. “Can we go look?”
Alicia smiled. “Of course.”
The gift shop was packed with silly items, SPAM socks, SPAM-shaped erasers, cookbooks, even plush toys. Sammy zeroed in on a can-shaped piggy bank, while Ellie wandered to the T-shirt rack.
There, folded neatly in the middle shelf, was a pink shirt with the SPAM logo printed in glittery letters. Ellie held it up.
“You like that one?” Alicia asked, appearing beside her.
Ellie nodded. “It’s kind of ridiculous. But also kind of cute.”
“I think it’s very you.”
Ellie hugged the shirt to her chest.
At the register, the cashier smiled at them. “Fun day?”
“Yeah,” Ellie said, without hesitation. “It really was.”
* * *
That night, after everyone was home and changed into their pajamas, Ellie sat on the porch swing with her dad. The air hung heavy with the scent of honeysuckle and freshly cut grass, the chirping of crickets a steady counterpoint to the gentle creak of the swing. Sam Sr. handed her a cup of lemonade, homemade, Alicia’s special recipe, with a hint of mint. The sweetness was a welcome contrast to the lingering nervousness she still felt.
“You did good today, El,” Sam Sr. said, his voice soft.
Ellie took a sip, the cool liquid soothing her throat. “I was scared this morning, Dad. I thought… I thought maybe someone would say something mean, like at school.” She remembered Mrs. Henderson’s snide comment about her “funny haircut” earlier that year. The memory sent a shiver down her spine.
“But they didn’t,” Sam Sr. said, his hand resting gently on her back.
“No,” Ellie agreed. “It felt… normal. Like it was supposed to be like this.”
He nodded, watching the fireflies blinking in the twilight. “Maybe it was. Remember that time you wore Sammy’s superhero cape to kindergarten and everyone thought it was a costume?”
Ellie giggled. “Yeah, but that was different. This… this felt like me.”
A silence fell between them, broken only by the crickets. Ellie shifted on the swing. “Do you ever wish things were like they used to be, Dad? Before… before all this?” The question hung in the air, a tiny tremor of doubt.
Sam Sr. was silent for a moment. He looked out at the darkening yard, his gaze lost in the distance. “Sometimes, El. I do. But not because I want anything about you to change. It's just… I miss not worrying so much. Not having this constant feeling like I'm walking on eggshells.” He looked at her, his eyes filled with a quiet sadness. “That time at the grocery store, when that lady stared at you and then muttered something to her friend… that really got to me.”
Ellie nodded, understanding. She’d felt the same unease, a prickle of shame under the lady’s judgmental gaze. “Me too, Dad. I thought maybe she’d tell someone.”
He squeezed her shoulder gently. “But she didn't. And today? At the SPAM Museum? I didn't worry once. Not even when that little boy asked you about your shirt.” He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. “You handled it like a pro.”
Ellie smiled back, a genuine smile this time, not forced. She felt a warmth spread through her chest, chasing away the lingering shadows of doubt. Later, curled up in bed, she hugged her new pink SPAM shirt to her chest, the soft cotton a comforting presence. She thought about the museum, the fascinating exhibits, the delicious rice bowl, and how Sammy’s eyes had lit up with delight at each new discovery. She thought about Alicia and Sam Sr., walking beside her, not just tolerating, but embracing her as Ellie, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
And for the first time in months, Ellie didn’t fall asleep dreading tomorrow. She fell asleep dreaming of the next family adventure, of more normal days like today, where she didn't have to hide, didn't have to pretend, and could just be. The dream was filled with the scent of honeysuckle, the sounds of crickets, and the gentle creak of a porch swing, a swing that carried her closer to the future she’d always longed for.
The kitchen was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the gentle ticking of the clock above the sink. A plate of uneaten cookies sat on the counter, their sweet scent a stark contrast to the bitter taste of anxiety building in Alicia's throat. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a scene of peaceful domesticity at odds with the turmoil churning within her. She sat at the kitchen table, the cordless phone resting in her hand. Her thumb hovered over the number pad, but she wasn’t dialing. Not yet. She’d been putting this off for days. Every time she looked at the phone, a familiar knot tightened in her stomach. Talking to Helen, her own mother, about Ellie felt like crossing a rickety bridge over a chasm, she could imagine every possible way it might go wrong.
A wave of memory washed over her, a vivid flashback to her own adolescence. She was sixteen, sitting in the backseat of her father's car, the dull grey of the upholstery mirroring the bleakness of her mood. Her father, a man of unwavering tradition and deeply ingrained expectations, had sighed, his voice laced with a familiar disappointment. "Alicia, you need to focus on your studies. This 'art' nonsense is a distraction. A nice girl like you shouldn't be wasting her time on such frivolous pursuits." The memory, though distant, felt sharp and raw, a reminder of the subtle yet powerful pressures she’d faced to conform to societal expectations, to suppress her own creativity and passions. The subtle pressures she'd faced to conform to societal expectations resonated with the anxieties she felt now about Ellie.
She’d been putting this off for days. Every time she looked at the phone, her chest tightened. Talking to Helen, her own mother, about Ellie felt like crossing a bridge with no railing, she could imagine every possible way it might go wrong. The weight of this impending conversation pressed down on her, a physical burden that made her shoulders slump. The uneaten cookies, a symbol of the sweetness she couldn't quite access, felt strangely bitter.
Sam Sr. stepped into the kitchen, drying his hands on a dish towel. He looked at Alicia for a long moment, then quietly walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“You want me to be there?” he asked. His voice was soft, laced with the quiet strength she’d come to rely on during their shared anxieties.
Alicia nodded without looking up. “Yeah. I think so.” She hadn’t realized how much she needed his support, how much she craved the familiar steadiness of his presence.
He pulled out a chair beside her and sat down. The phone still rested in her hand, motionless. The familiar ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall seemed to amplify the silence, each tick a relentless reminder of the passing time.
“It’s time,” she whispered. The words, though simple, felt monumental.
Sam Sr. nodded, offering nothing but quiet support. His presence, a tangible anchor in the sea of her anxieties, offered a welcome sense of calm.
Alicia took a breath and dialed. The beeping sounded louder than usual in the quiet kitchen. As the line rang, she straightened her back and closed her eyes, bracing herself. The faint scent of lavender from a potpourri bowl on the nearby counter, usually a comforting aroma, did little to ease the tension. She imagined Helen’s reaction, picturing the potential scenarios in her mind, disbelief, anger, confusion, dismissal. Each possibility felt like a blow.
“Hello?” came the familiar voice on the other end. The sound, usually soothing, now held an edge of uncertainty, a hint of the unknown that mirrored Alicia's own apprehension.
“Hi, Mom,” Alicia said. Her voice was steady, but her hand trembled slightly where it gripped the phone. “It’s me.” The simple words, the opening gambit of this difficult conversation, felt heavy with unspoken anxieties.
“Hi, honey. Everything okay?” Helen’s voice, usually cheerful and bright, held a hint of concern that mirrored Alicia’s own worries.
Alicia hesitated. “I wanted to talk to you about something… about Elliott.” The name, still lingering from the past, felt like a weight, a reminder of the person Ellie was no longer.
There was a long pause on the other end. Alicia could almost hear Helen’s mind racing, the gears of her own judgmental mind turning.
“Well, actually,” Alicia continued, her throat tightening, “about Ellie.” The name, finally spoken aloud, felt like a release, yet simultaneously, a profound risk.
Upstairs, Ellie, ostensibly reading in her room, had sensed the shift in the atmosphere the moment the phone rang. The subtle change in Alicia's energy, the way her shoulders had stiffened, the way her hands were clasped tightly together, had been almost imperceptible, yet intensely meaningful to her. She slid off her bed, tiptoed to the door, and cracked it open a sliver. The quiet hum of the ceiling fan seemed to amplify the silence, heightening the sense of anticipation. Moving silently, she crept down the hall and sat at the top of the stairs, just out of sight, listening. The faint scent of vanilla from her lavender lotion, normally comforting, only heightened her nervousness.
Back in the kitchen, Alicia’s voice carried through the house, soft but clear, each word carefully chosen. The quiet intensity of her voice amplified the silence in the kitchen, making the ticking of the grandfather clock seem louder.
“Mom, Ellie has been trying to tell us for a long time that she’s a girl… Yes, a girl…” Each word was a step into the unknown, a carefully chosen step on a path Alicia hadn’t fully charted.
There was another pause. Alicia listened, her brow furrowed in concentration, her expression a mixture of hope and apprehension. She could almost visualize Helen pacing around her Minneapolis home, her hands clasped tightly together, her glasses perched precariously on her nose, a familiar gesture that betrayed her own anxieties and the profound weight of the conversation.
“No, it’s not a phase,” Alicia continued, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hand. This was a crucial moment; she had to speak with unwavering conviction. The thought of her own mother’s potential misunderstanding or dismissal filled her with a fresh wave of anxiety.
Ellie gripped the railing tightly. She couldn’t hear what Grandma Helen was saying, but she could picture it. The confusion, the doubt. Maybe even anger. Ellie’s stomach twisted with a familiar mix of apprehension and hope.
“We’ve been doing a lot of reading,” Alicia continued, her voice gaining strength. “Talking to people. Professionals, even. Her name is Ellie now.” The words, though simple, carried a significant weight, a declaration of acceptance and support.
Down the stairs, the kitchen fell quiet. Alicia listened, her eyes closed, her expression unreadable. The faint scent of old coffee suddenly felt bitter, a stark contrast to the quiet sweetness of Ellie's name. Ellie imagined Helen on the other end, the phone pressed tightly to her ear, the silence punctuated only by her labored breathing.
Sam Sr. reached out and gently squeezed Alicia’s knee under the table. She didn’t flinch, but her jaw was tight, her fingers tracing a pattern on the table.
“She’s still the same person,” Alicia said, her voice softening slightly. “But she’s also happier. So much happier.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but the tears threatening to spill betrayed her emotion. The simple act of using Ellie’s name, of referring to her as she was now, felt both liberating and profoundly vulnerable.
Ellie blinked back tears. It was strange, hearing someone else describe her life like this, like it was both intensely personal and yet a story being told from outside herself.
“We’re not rushing into anything,” Alicia said. “We’re letting her lead, and we’re learning as we go.” Her voice was calm, yet laced with a carefully concealed determination. She was setting boundaries, but not shutting her mother out.
There was another long silence. The silence felt heavier now, charged with unspoken anxieties. Then Alicia nodded again, even though no one could see it.
“Yes, of course. We can talk more soon. I just wanted you to know… before you visit.” The mention of Helen’s upcoming visit felt like another layer to the tension; the visit now held a different meaning.
That part hit Ellie like a jolt. Grandma was planning a visit? She hadn’t realized. Maybe her mom hadn’t told her yet because she wasn’t sure how the call would go. The weight of this upcoming interaction settled on Ellie, a fresh wave of anxieties washing over her.
Finally, Alicia said, “Okay. Love you too. Bye.” The words, though simple, held the weight of a promise, a declaration of unwavering support.
She pressed the button to end the call and lowered the phone slowly onto the table. Her shoulders slumped, the tension visibly easing from her body. She didn’t move for a long moment. The quiet hum of the refrigerator seemed to amplify the silence.
Sam Sr. leaned closer. “That sounded… okay?” His voice was gentle, laced with a mixture of hope and concern. He reached out and covered her hand with his.
Alicia let out a long breath and nodded faintly. “I think so. She asked questions. Lots of them. But she didn’t hang up. She didn’t get mean. She just… needed time.” The relief was palpable, a wave of exhaustion washing over her. The conversation hadn’t been easy, but it had been a start.
“That’s something,” Sam said, squeezing her hand gently.
Alicia rubbed her forehead. “I’ve been dreading that for weeks. I kept thinking of every worst-case scenario. But she didn’t say anything cruel. Mostly just… confusion. And disbelief.” The admission, though soft, held a quiet strength, a testament to her growing acceptance of her own mother's limitations.
“She’ll come around,” Sam Sr. said, his voice a soft affirmation.
“I hope so. Ellie loves her. I want them to have a good relationship.” This was the underlying motivation behind Alicia’s courage, her desire for Ellie to maintain a healthy relationship with her grandmother.
At the top of the stairs, Ellie tiptoed back to her room, her heart full of a confusing mix of emotions. The call had sounded tense, but not hateful. That mattered. She didn’t know exactly what Grandma had said, but the fact that her mom stayed calm, and kept using her name, felt like a kind of victory. The quiet hum of the refrigerator continued to hum as Alicia and Sam processed the conversation, a subtle reminder of the ongoing nature of their journey.