sister

I know I told you previously that the first person I ‘came out to’ was Ashton. I mislead you, a little. The first person I told was ‘my little sister’ Selah. In my defense, I did not mean to tell her and, in fact, did not know what I was telling her.
I was six or seven. Selah as three or four. We were in the back of Dad’s van. Our fathers in the front seat, our mothers in the middle bucket seats. Selah and I on the floor in the back. We were returning home from a trip to some neighboring town.
We were playing with Selah’s dolls. I was enjoying myself much more immensely than she was. At some point, the dolls’ clothes started to come off. We weren’t trying to do anything dirty, we were just playing. Somehow the conversation turned to the subject of strippers. To this day, I have no idea how we were even aware of what stripper were, both of us being sheltered as we were—although me winning the award in that competition.
I looked at Selah and asked in all innocence, “Who would you rather see take off their clothes? A man or a woman?”
Selah pondered the question before answering in hast. “A man,” she spoke with conviction.
I looked at her and thought, although I didn’t need to think, I already knew. “I would rather see a man too” I nodded my head in confirmation. “I mean, there is nothing to even see if a woman takes her clothes off. Why bother?”
Neither of us had any clue as to what I had just admitted, and the conversation turned to other topics dealing with subject matter that were not so thick with foreshadow.
It would be nearly eighteen years later before the conversation came full circle. We were driving from Denver to Estes Park when her family came to visit us. We have always seen each other as brother and sister, but we rarely spoke deeply about present issues in our lives. If we ever delved into the more serious topics of our lives, it was always over things that had previously occurred and were no longer any risk.
For some reason, this evening was different. We both began talking about pain in our lives that was consuming us. We got on the topic of relationships, and I brazenly told her that I had been battling same-sex attraction (I was still in learn-to-be-straight therapy at this point). She was shocked. I was surprised. After all, she above any, had seen my feminine ways—the dolls, the ponies. She always beat me in an argument and left me in tears for pity sake! Nevertheless, she hadn’t a clue.
She was not angry or disgusted. She did not follow the strict religious beliefs that we were raised with. She has always been the more progressive of the two of us. She was sad however, “You know, it’s funny. We have never talked about it, but part of me always thought that after we get done with our different relationships that we would end up together.” She actually was a little teary.
“You know, I have had similar thoughts. When I beat this same-sex shit, then we will have a chance. And, I will beat it.” I wasn’t lying. She was one of the few girls that I thought of when I contemplated marriage. I loved her more than any other girl alive. I wanted to protect her. Make sure she knew how wonderful she was. What more could you want to feel for someone?
As we reached my family’s house, we got out of my truck and Selah came around and hugged me. I think she knew and accepted the real truth about me before I did. She knew at that moment we would always remain brother and sister. She spoke in my ear, “I love you so much and I am proud of you. I want you to be happy.”