He stood in my front yard, tossing rocks at my window in the pouring rain.
I looked out at him. Even through the stained glass, and the torrential rain, I could still make out his deep brown eyes, his soft dark skin, and his wry smile. I could feel his eyes searching my soul, and I saw his longing to be with me.
“OPEN YOUR WINDOW!” he called.
Despite my fear, I obliged, and I called back to him.
“Forget about me!” I screamed. “I told you… we can never be together!”
“I wish it was that easy.” He replied, his deep voice giving me butterflies. “But its not, and it never will be.”
Silence stretched between us, as he waited for my reply. I saw tears dripping down his face, mingling with the rain. He spoke again.
“I love you.” He called gently. My heart felt like it would burst from my chest at his words. Against hope, against reason, against all that I knew to be good, I slammed my window shut and ran. Out of my bedroom, down the stairs and out the front door, and into the waiting arms of the man I love.
For once, everything in the world felt right. My body melted into his, and I kissed him softly. “I love you, too.” I said, and I hugged him tightly.
Even though I knew my father disapproved, and the world frowned upon us, at that moment, everything in my life was alright again.
And for the first time in 16 years, I wasn’t ashamed to be gay.