How gay it would be

Wed, 25 Jun 2008 11:05:00 +0000

I know, I know -- a mother is not supposed to have preset dreams that she expects her child to fulfill. And I tried. Believe me, for an entire 18 years of my son's life, I tried. I promised myself that I would accept my son no matter what path he chose. And since our little unit lives in Austin, blue heart of red Texas, there was always the danger that his path might take him into the Pi Kappa Alphas or the Republican Party. Still, I vowed that I would find a way to love my little Pike president of the Young Republicans. In his giant SUV. With the gun rack.

But, like so many of us, I am only human. How could I not dream of having a son who cared deeply about all the right things: fashion, musical theater, interior décor? But mostly a son who cared deeply about the most right thing of all: his mother? How could I not yearn for a son who would tell me that the bias cut emphasized my saddlebag thighs, that no one was staining concrete anymore, that the tiniest bit of white on the upper lids would open up my eyes and make me look 10 years younger? And now that California is handing out marriage licenses, what mother could resist the opportunity to micromanage a union in which both participants would obsess with her about whether the color theme celadon and peach or apple green and hot pink best expresses their love?

Salon.com > Sarah Bird

How gay it would be