Cassie comes home.Last week, I had made plans to go and visit my mom over the weekend. The plan was uncomplicated - I was going down there Saturday morning and coming back Sunday evening. No expectations, no preconceived notions, and above all else - no fear. Not any more. Only eager anticipation.
Of course, after a rather busy week, having lost one of my fur babies and my sister-in-law all in the space of a few days, I needed some happy moments and had been looking forward to this trip.
Saturday morning, I realized that everything I wanted to wear for the weekend was needing to be laundered, so I played washerwoman for much of the morning in addition to . Fortunately, I hadn't planned to be at my mom's place until after her meeting which ended around noon. Still, I was going to be late and I texted her an apology that I was running so late. She replied back saying that we can reschedule if this wasn't a good day but I told her it's okay and that I'm on my way. I remember thinking that I need this trip and would make it down there, come hell or high water!
I chose carefully what I had planned to wear for the weekend and started the day looking fabulous. I had had a slight hesitation at wearing the short skirt and sleeveless top I had picked out but said, "I wear this to work, so no big deal. This is me, after all."
During the two-and-a-half-hour drive to her place, I didn't really think on what I was about to do until the last 20 minutes or so when I started seeing some of the old familiar scenery I remembered from doing most of my growing up in that area. A missed exit ended up taking me on a slightly different route, going up a road that was vaguely familiar but something was missing. I saw the county fleet maintenance buildings but there should have been something else. Then I realized that the empty field I was looking at was the former site of my old high school which I lovingly referred to as "The Snake Pit". I could use some other, harsher language to describe it but I'm trying to keep things relatively clean here.
As I got closer to Mom's place, my heart started to beat more rapidly in anticipation of the moments to come.
"Here we go," I said to myself as I got out of the car and walked up to the front door.
She answered and welcomed me back into the house in which I had spent much of my childhood. It had changed, to be sure, but a lot had stayed the same. I'm happy to say that none of it was distressing in the slightest. There were a lot of memories, to be sure but no pain. I think I'm past that point.
I had asked her a few days beforehand what types of wines she prefers and had brought two bottles with me - a dinner wine and a dessert wine. One of them was a pink moscato to which I had been recently introduced by Steph. She already had a bottle of (thankfully not-too-sweet) riesling open, so we started on that while we sat and chatted. I had thought we might talk a bit more about my transition as I'm sure she had questions but I didn't try to steer the conversation. I just let it take whatever course it would. She was still getting to know her new daughter.
A while later, we were on our second glasses of wine and she suggested we try to Facetime my aunt and uncle who lived not very far away. After she answered, we all chatted and laughed and eventually the conversation turned into us making dinner plans. I offered to buy since I hadn't seen any of them in so long and my uncle took a bit of extra convincing because he has some mobility issues. I like to think that what changed his mind was my whining, "Oh come on! You're my favorite uncle!" He relented and plans were set.
We drove over to their place in my car to pick them up and we were off to a local bar-and-grill-style restaurant. There was a pretty long wait because it was prime time Saturday night and sports and drinking factor into a lot of the local culture. It was also the day before Mother's Day. As we waited, we three ladies did most of the chatting about a wide variety of things - there was no awkwardness, no uncomfortable silences. My aunt even complimented me on my purse.
Our dinner conversation continued along the same lines as when were waiting. Among other things, they caught me up on what had been happening in the family over the last few years - some good, some bad. Again, there was no weirdness at all. They all seemed perfectly comfortable around me, at least as comfortable as I was with them. The feeling was indescribable.
Also during the course of dinner, among other things, we talked about breakfast the next day. It was decided that my aunt and uncle would have us over for some blueberry-ricotta pancakes. It sounded odd but tasted fantastic. We only had to stop at The Wal Marts to pick up a few ingredients. My mom and my aunt went into the store in search of the necessaries for tomorrow's breakfast, which left my uncle and me in the car together.
He had been a bit of an unknown factor in all this and I had always regarded him as being rather the "opinionated" type, if you get my meaning.
Looking over at me, he said, "So, Cassandra. How is everything going?"
This is a question I'm sure we all get from time to time. It's the one that asks a much more far-reaching question than a simple casual "How are you doing?"
I replied with, "Things are going very well. I'm a thousand times happier now than before."
"Well, that's good. That's what really matters."
I was surprised at just how accepting of me he was being. I hate that I have such a habit of assuming the worst of people, only to find out that reality is so much different. Whether that's a leftover from days long past or if it's induced by some of the horror stories that permeate the trans community, I really can't say. I'm just happy that my story, though rocky here and there, has been mostly a positive one.
He and I chatted for a few more minutes, mostly about my new car and other, less "touchy-feely" topics, but I love that we were able to reconnect so easily in spite of everything. I wasn't exaggerating earlier - he is my favorite uncle. He was always fun to talk to back when I was younger. When he and my dad ran a car rental agency, I worked for them when I wasn't working my other job - mostly washing and vacuuming cars but during the slower times, we had plenty of time to talk. Back then, we shared a very cynical sense of humor. Our mutual favorite comedian was George Carlin and one only had to listen to us banter for a few minutes to figure that out. We had had a bond back then, for sure. Shortly after, I moved on into adulthood and all of the facts of life contained therein.
Soon afterward, the rest of our party returned from their quest with the necessary groceries in hand and we headed back to drop off my aunt and uncle.
Mom and I went back to her place and, after a quick shower and me jumping into some comfy clothes, she called me into the kitchen and asked me which of the two wines I'd like to open next. After a moment's thought, a mischievous grin stole its way onto my face and I said, "Well, since we already had dinner...Let's open the dessert wine!"
My mom smiled and nodded in agreement and went to pour us some. We talked a lot more, certainly staying up much later than we should have.
The next morning, we slept in and headed over for breakfast.
I'll skip most of the details as this is getting long-winded already. Since everyone had had a day to get reacquainted with me, there were a few comments. My aunt said how she noticed that my mannerisms were very different, very much more feminine than before. I told her about how I was a bit surprised at just how easy it was to make the shift - as though it were there all along but waiting to come out.
Being that she and my mom are in their 70's (they're twins, BTW), we joked about how bathroom trips have become more frequent and I mentioned that one of the medications I was on acted as a very active diuretic. I explained to her and my mom about how spiro was part of my HRT regimen and that it was an androgen blocker. I clarified for her what the androgen was that needed to be blocked and she asked how long I'd have to be on it. I said, "I'll be taking it until such time as the parts that produce testosterone are no longer...present."
She then asked if I was planning to have "a sex change operation" and I said I was. In spite of the use of the archaic terminology, I have to say I was pleasantly surprised that there was no kind of negative reaction on their part. Of course, they might have needed some time to process all that so I didn't elaborate beyond what we'd already discussed. Baby steps, and all. I did tell my aunt just what a pivotal role her youngest daughter played in how that first visit with my mom went. I had said that she was one of the main reasons we were there having that conversation. She said she would make sure to say "Thanks".
While we were clearing the table and doing the dishes, I heard my aunt in the kitchen say to my mom, "Well, you may have lost a son, but you've gained a daughter."
Upon hearing that, I smiled to myself and blinked away the tears that were threatening.
I made sure to take a few pictures while I was there.
First is Mom and me and the second pic is with my aunt.
As an added surprise, my cousin "B" - my aunt and uncle's oldest son whom I hadn't seen in almost 10 years - showed up unexpectedly. I was in the dining room when I heard him come in and start talking to my uncle who was in the kitchen. They walked into the dining room on their way to the living room when he saw me standing there and did a bit of a double-take when I said "Hello."
He seemed not at all surprised at seeing me and even said that I was "looking sassy".
We said our goodbyes with hugs all around and soon afterward, I was heading back northward with a happy heart that had just had that huge puzzle piece labeled "Family" put back into place after so many years. It fit into place better than it ever had before.
I'll be making relatively frequent trips down there, now that all the uncertainty has been put behind me. We talked about the next trip being to the beach.
