Moments

There are moments when all the fears and doubt of coming-out to my parents disappear. They're tiny; not even blip on the radar of my life, but they happen. During their short existences, the way I see myself and my family changes completely.

Most Sundays I head over to my parents home to eat food with them. With my Mom in Toronto this week, I was the one cooking for my Dad and myself. My parents have a pretty awesome sound system, so I put in one of my favorite CDs by Brand New and set the volume high enough to vibrate the paintings off the walls. I then went to chopping up the chicken and vegetables for Indian-style dinner.

2 Asides:
Don't ever insult Brand New. They were the first band I liked and will always be my favorite.
Don't ever insult my cooking. I make fucking amazing Indian food.

My Dad comes up the stairs, walks into the kitchen doing his fake dance to my music. It's his way of feeling hip and mocking me at the same time. He comes up to me, hugs me, kisses me on the neck and tells me:

You're a good kid. I'm proud of you.

He walks away, keeping up his jig to my deafening music.

From your perspective, this probably seems normal or maybe just a token since I am making him dinner. For me though, my Dad doesn't really hug or touch any of us sons much and him kissing always means his statement or feelings are serious. The last time I remember him doing was last year, when my oldest brother moved to Texas.

Its tiny moments like this that make me think it will be okay. The years of being scared are put long behind me and I have nothing to fear because he and they will love me.
But, as always, the feeling is fleeting and quickly lost. The moment is finite and easily dissolves from the grasp of my mind. Seconds after my Dad has gone back down the stairs, my courage is gone and I just can't be sure if they would stand next to me or shun me when that day comes.



I know I need to tell them soon. I just don't know how or when. But I know.