I want to say that years ago I never would have thought I’d be “setting up house” with another woman. But that’s not really true. In full disclosure, I had thoughts back in my Baptist-girl days, believe it or not, a teenage fantasy of living with another girl whom I had a crush on. But that’s a story never told.
Amanda and I are making this new house a home. I know homemaking isn’t done in a day or week or month, but takes a long time. It seems to require arguments about such things as which cabinet cups and mugs should go into and long conversations about the color of area rugs. Slowly we have been converting rooms from the emptiness of real estate showings into personal spaces that are shaped to each of us like satin corsets.
This is happening at the same time I will be going home to my mother. In twelve days, as of this writing. Technically, it’s not the same house I grew up in, as my parents moved my junior year in college. But it’s in the same Pennsylvania town and near to the same church, so it feels just as much to me as my girlhood home. And it’s the home my father died in just two years after they moved there.
Over Thanksgiving I will tell Mom how thankful I am for her. And I will share with her who I truly am, my submissive lifestyle, and my lesbian relationship with Amanda.