Saturday, January 15


Do you know that pause in the air---the one where the electricity is hot and heavy right before someone is about to strike you? That moment is utterly centering. Centering like I'm twelve again. Twelve and scared of heavy hands raised above me. It's that look you get which really grounds me. Grounds me to when I was seven, wild, untamed. When I had dreams bigger than a chocolate chip cookie masquerading as the moon.

I'm twenty now. I should know better---know better than to fear you. You pause, but rarely strike. It's the possibility that I'm most afraid of, really. The possibility alters everything.


Today, my parents were talking about arranged marriages. It was never really a concern of ours in the past. We grew up believing that we could marry whomever we thought was right for us. After all, my dad has always said that they raised us right and would trust in our decisions.

All that has changed now. Because of Bobby and his girlfriend. They've decided to fix him up with a Desi bride---stamped with feminine grace and refinement. We aren't sure if he'll agree. He's pretty into Deborasaurus Rex. Then, my mom turns to me in the car and says:
"You know you're getting an arranged marriage too, right?"

Without missing a beat, I answer soundly, "I'm a lesbian."

My dad inquires, "Really? A lesbian now?"

So I nod my head in triumph.

"That's okay. We'll find you a nice girl too."

And so it begins...