“Lucas! Could you please come out of the closet already?” I called out to my son, who was literally hiding away.
“Okay, Mommy! Here I am! How did you find me?” he exclaimed, bursting out of the closet and launching himself into my arms.
My son is stunning—truly delightful. His soft features and enormous almond-shaped eyes are irresistibly charming, complemented by his sweet, high-pitched voice. He has a penchant for pink and purple, often clomping around the house in my high heels, cherry chapstick perpetually in his pocket as he meticulously applies it, pursing his lips for perfect coverage.
While my daughter Mia, who is five, has always embraced her girly side, Lucas strikes a balance; he’s not overly masculine or overwhelmingly feminine. I don’t believe he’s gay, nor do I think Mia is, but I often ponder how I would respond if either of them came to me in the future with such revelations. To keep my current feelings fresh, I’ve decided to write a letter to myself—something I often do on my blog—to ensure that when that day arrives, I stay true to my beliefs.