This is the story of how Emery Walters became whom he was supposed to be.<br><br>I knew I was male at an early age, something that was a societal no-no in the 1950s and still is in parts of the country today. Burying my male identity, I strove to be the best woman possible. But after raising my four wonderful children from two debilitating marriages, I found myself alone and nearly penniless. That was when Emery asserted his identity.<br><br>Life became better with the shift from female to male, a third marriage, and a wife who, herself, transitioned from male to female.

Some Fine Day

I first thought like that when I was up late, writing, ‘my time’, kids all in bed. It was raining and the rain streaked down against the window glass, doubling the candle light and I sat there on the floor, listening to the Moody Blues, so timeless, filled with wanting to be me, filled with love for the me who had not yet been, other than those few peeks out of—well, the closet, the locked room of my heart.


Right there where it could beat on my sternum like the other love I have, the love that fights its way through and wants to warm itself in the real world a while, and not remain locked into the basement, the closet, the ether, the world of the spirit.


Is that how God or the Universe or whatever feels, that the love is there for whoever will allow it to fill him/her/it? Can you love a tree? Only because it can’t not let you. Can you love a person? You know you can. You do. But do they ‘let you’? Do they accept what you have? Do they let you in?


Chapter 92