Climb on a back that's strong

His back. When I wrap my arms around him, he's more substantial, harder, firmer. That's the first change I noticed. It was subtle and yet it wasn't. Just two weeks ago, I think. I digested the change with my hands, my arms, my body: this feels good. I liked the warmth of it, the solidity, like his new muscles and cells were filling a space that had been waiting for them. Like his body was beginning to assume its rightful place. Then my head came and as usual... Well, you know my head. It rushes into thoughts: boom, boom, boom. Flips through them. Oh my god. Shit. Holy Shit. Wait. This is really fucking happening? My girlfriend is really becoming a man? Holy crap. I mean, this is no longer simply an intellectual exercise of expectations and hypotheticals. This is suddenly concrete. Next up: hair, voice. Evidence of gender. Evidence of maleness. And then, I quiet my mind and I see that in R, masculinity seems to be discovering its rightful place, nestling in and planting its flag. It belongs. Every day I see more changes. Now he wears it on his face. I can't quite tell what it is, a broadening of features maybe. It's probably his forehead widening. He is changing before my eyes. It scares me. And there's something else, a start of what might pass for acceptance? Right now, with him laying beside me, gently breathing, ruffling through his magazine and quieting for a night of sleep, he seems calm. More peaceful than I've ever known him. Maybe it won't last (what moment ever lasts?) but in this one still moment I can imagine a different road ahead. Not so much a smooth one, as one that says, take me. Take me. I am what is right.

Photo by Fonzie's cousin courtesy of Flickr