[ 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 ]	I don’t want you to think that you were the cause. You weren’t. It wasn’t because I have two older brothers. It wasn’t because I didn’t respect you, Dad or that you didn’t hug me enough, Mom. It wasn’t the punk music or the liberal education or the vegetarianism or the belly button ring or my art teacher with the short cropped hair or the dance instructor with the limp wrists. I was born this way. There is nothing you or I could have done differently. Like I said last night, this isn’t some secret I’ve been keeping from you. I was in denial. I wouldn’t let myself be who I really am. I couldn’t have admitted it to you before I admitted it to myself. I hope you understand why I left, or that you can at least pretend to. It’s nothing you did or said. I’m starting my life over, clean slate, fresh start. I need to find myself and come to terms with my sexuality on my own. Telling you was the first step, but from what I hear, it’s an ongoing process. I love you both. I’ll be in touch. Sealed with a kiss and no return address, Your dearest gay daughter. I finished the letter and put it back in the album just as my eyes began to well up and I heard keys in the door. I had never questioned whether or not I did the right thing by leaving, until I got up the courage to come back. I listened to the footsteps come up the old wooden stairs, but I remained glued to the floor, unable to move. I didn’t turn until I felt her presence in the doorway, and saw her face, aged but unchanged. The same pair of eyes that were filled with tears the night I left, stared at me, glassy again. “Hi Mom."