mother
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Life with my mother comes back in flashes now. It is funny how differently you see things as an adult than you did as a child. I see her more human now than I ever did before. I see the other side of the story that children are often too young to understand. I understand…
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I sit on the edge of the bed at 4:30 in the morning and think about all of the fractures in a life. There is something about this hour that strips away distraction. The world is quiet enough that truth begins rising to the surface whether you want it to or not. I think about…
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You know, I came out to my parents before anyone else. My mom was the first to know. Then again, a mother always knows. I believe that is true. It was not easy being the odd man out in a family. You learn to adjust. You learn to pay attention. Every time I encountered homophobia…
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Every year, for as long as I can remember, I watched Meet Me in St. Louis with my mom. Every Christmas. That was our tradition. She loved that movie. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was teaching me something. About music. About warmth. About how certain stories quietly become part of who…
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“Try to remember the kind of September.” That line has been echoing in my head all day, and maybe it is because September once carried a very different meaning. When I was young, Labor Day was not just a holiday. It was the last day of freedom before school began again. In St. Louis, we…
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When I was little, my mom told me she was going to redecorate my room. I remember the thrill of choosing paint swatches—so deep a royal blue it felt like diving into the night sky. As the first coats went on, the room took on a hushed glow, and we pressed glow‑in‑the‑dark stars into the…
Steven LaChance Blog 