A Trip to Homoburbia to Meet Maria

I came roaring into town, Heteroburbiaville a bland, but now distant memory.  I slammed on my brakes with all my might as the blinding bright colors before me shimmered in reflection off my windshield just as the stoplight turned from yellow to red.  As I idled, anxious to continue, I noticed the long row of rainbow flags waving proudly in front of each building down the boulevard, like a row of fabulous and stylish swishing and swaying sentinels just waiting for my arrival.  I gave a sigh of relief.  I’d finally returned to the Gayborhood.

As the car rolled a few miles through the ‘hood, I felt an overwhelming urge to pull up in front of a very lovely homoburbian house.  Subtle, understated, but with an immaculately maintained exterior: “Must be lesbians,” I thought.  I pulled the Gaymobile over and stepped out.  I stood watching, somehow unseen, as events unfolded around me.

A car honked and pulled into the driveway.  Slowly, the 2-car garage door opened, and I could see that the owner of the car safely tucked into the garage had once again parked too far over to fit another car.  Out came a woman, it matters not her appearance, who started the conversation with, “Boy, howdy, I thought you’d never get here.”  Trailing behind her was a little girl who, judging by her size, was in grade school.  The woman in the car jumped out and said with exasperation, “Maria, if you’d park just a little farther over, I could get in the garage.”

Like the Invisible Lesbian, I followed them into the house where they were met by Socks, their dog.  They went about their business, eating dinner, watching a movie on TV, had a brief discussion in the kitchen about garage parking, and finally all of them went to bed, except Maria.  This was the time Maria was left alone to go to her computer.  She wrote about the day’s events – about the spat she had with Bing, her partner, over finances.  About the maddening woman in her office.  About the quiet moment of understanding she and her daughter shared in the garden.

Standing over her, reading her story, I was moved by the simple eloquence.  The words flowed like silk from one sentence to the next.  They weren’t all pretty thoughts. Some were angry and annoyed. Some expressed awe at the special creature she had somehow produced who brought out those maternal instincts in ways that surprised her.  Some were tinged with sweet regret for her seeming imperfections as a partner to the woman she loves.

When I finished reading, I walked through the door back to my car, still a bit confused about my invisible day.  I realized then that reading Maria was just like my spectral visit – I was given the gift of invisibly peering into just how unmundane any life is if you look at it with true honesty, as Maria does every time she writes.

Smiling and satisfied, I fired up the Gaymobile and headed to my next stop at the other side of the rainbow in Our Big Gayborhood.  I needed to get back quick and toss the keys to Margo Moon so she can take it for a spin.

Maria writes at Just Eat Your Cupcake and once a month, she’s right here, don’t miss her.

Tags: Just Eat Your Cupcake, Maria, Our Big Gayborhood