So today I’m going through the piles and piles of stuff we’ve accumulated over the last ten years with the kids in our loft condo, and I’m picking up the bags to go to Good Will, and I grab the cinderella dress, the disney cinderella dress, the first store-bought dress, pink and white satin with a big plastic hoop inside it to make it poof out in a bell at the bottom.
“Oscar, do we still need this? It doesn’t fit you. Can I throw it out?”
“Yes. No.” Oscar pauses for a split second. “Can we give it to charity?”
“Yes, I can put in the Salvation army bag.”
“OK then.”
I stuff the dress in the bag. For good measure, I toss in a black wool top coat, an overcoat with a burst seam I know I’ll never have repaired, that belonged to my grandfather, the only thing of his I own. Makes sense. They should go together. My grandfather isn’t in the coat. He’s in my heart.
And I’m remembering a moment three days ago when Oscar appeared, on Valentine’s day, beside my computer, in a white wig studded with tiny red paper hearts, and a crimson skirt improvised out of a bolt of cloth, and a huge smile on his face, and I felt that immediate reflexive surge of anger at the boy in the dress and I hugged him tight and told him he looked beautiful and kissed him.
And I try to forgive myself, for that surge of anger. Was I just mad at being interrupted? Was I mad that my first born son wears a dress?
And I console myself that it isn’t our job to be perfect, it’s our job to do the best we can. The next generation gets to be perfect. They get to laugh at our unease, our discomfort, snicker at our halfway gestures of acceptance. Maybe they won’t know they got to the place they will be on our backs. Only with our help.
And goodbye, Cinderella, good bye, little boy girl, little powerpuff girl, little force of nature, holy pain in the ass that you have been, drama queen, selfish brat, bravest person I’ve never known.
I’ll always remember the day you put that dress on and ran around our front courtyard and the smile on your face as I took your picture and we saw you and you saw us seeing you and we knew it was alright, that we all loved each other.
Even if it was a lot of work, sometimes.
Happy Belated Valentine’s day to all your boys in dresses, all your girls in baseball caps.
They grow up fast.
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