Decades later, I find myself writing this for a screen that reaches people I will never meet. I see young people now—flamboyant, courageous, and redefining the words that used to be thrown at us like stones. They speak of "coming out" at fourteen as if it were a natural rite of passage, though I know for many, that path is still paved with shame and hard conversations.
I write these stories so the "Gay Boomers" aren't forgotten—the ones who lived through the disco era, the liberation movements, and the devastating silence of the '80s. We are still here, and our archives are finally coming out from under the bed. Coming Out | Keep loving. Keep living. Keep dreaming.
I recently found Julian’s old shirt at the bottom of a trunk. It still smelled faintly of the peppermint tea he used to drink. I didn't wash it. Some ghosts are worth keeping close.