Memoir: The Moment My Mom Came Out

I walked along the cracked and neglected sidewalks as the sun disappeared behind the shingled rooftops, leaving behind it an otherworldly, green hue that lingered in the trees.

It was dusk and, as I rounded the corner onto my street, I saw the garage door of my house lit up by the headlights of Jennifer’s pink, 1990 Geo Tracker. It sat idling in the driveway, as Jennifer stood on the front stoop, lighting one of her menthol cigarettes.