| | love turns the whole thing around
no, it won't all go the way it should
but I know the heart of life is good
Last week? Can it only be last week? Cimball turned a corner one night hanging out with his friends and ran into the most openly gay teenage boy in all of our town. Let's call him Morty.
One night of hanging out turned into another and another and another -
until Friday night when they sat on the hood of Morty's car in a park and Morty played What A Wonderful World on the ukulele while Cimball smiled.
Then they sat on a rock at Overlook Point, staring down at the whole town and Cimball said, "Whoever is your boyfriend next is going to be SO lucky." And Morty said, "Whoever is going to be YOUR boyfriend next is going to be so lucky.
And then they held hands as the wind blew and then they kissed and decided they would be each other's next boyfriends.
Tonight, when Cimball is relating this unbelievably fantastic story to me over dinner, this has to be scripted romantic comedy that cannot be true for a boy who told me four months ago he couldn't keep a copy of Rainbow Boys because he'd get in trouble, I can't stop laughing, I can't stop the joy. It just keeps bubbling up, brimming to the surface, a smile on my face that literally won't stop.
"I'm not laughing at you," I gasp with glee.
Cimball beams back, holds my hand. "I KNOW! IT'S JUST SO GOOD."
We giggle, we can't stop, smiles stretching our faces, the joy bursting forth.
See? The thing is?
You just never know what you're going to find when you turn the next corner.
You just never know when your romantic comedy is waiting to start.
You just never know what kind of friends and family you'll find to laugh and smile with over burritos, cupcakes, and boba tea.
When I drop Cimball off at home I shout out my window to him, "Didn't I tell you when you were reading all those books? Everyone gets a story!"
He stops in the middle of the street. I hear his laughter trill up and up, to the sky and beyond.
I think, suddenly and perhaps stupidly, of Harvey Milk and Harry Hay and millions of men who dreamed a day something like today would come for 17 year old boys across the world, this exact moment, a 17 year old boy who has thrown off the shackles of his repressive religion, embraced his queerness, and feels OK kissing his boyfriend in Starbucks in a small town in New Mexico of less than 12,000 people.
"I like my story better than the books!" He says.
I feel something so good and sweet and strong and happy in me that I want to catch it up, save it forever, hold close when I want to put my head in my hands and weep. I take a deep breath, savor it, and shout back: "Then that's how you know you're doing it right."
And again, we laugh, laugh, laugh into the warm, dusty twilight of whatever comes around the corner next.
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| | Posted 6/25/2009 1:07 AM - 56 Views - 8 eProps - 4 comments
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