Poem

When Brandon was 19 and I was 23, I made the hardest decision of my life.

I left the small south Georgia town where I had lived with the woman I loved.

She stayed behind.

I passed for a man by accident sometimes, and I knew it could get me killed. But I worried even more what might happen to her.

She could lose her job, her friends, her family and her life.

I loved her enough to leave. Not a day goes by that I do not think of her.

Yes, I still love you. And I miss the little tin roof house we pretended was ours, the one you called our "miracle house".

(Author wishes to remain anonymous)