Though I enjoyed snuggling with my Aunt Roe and could probably have spent ages just staying in her arms, feeling safe and secure while wearing my fancy maroon dress, I knew it was practical. For one, seven year old children tend to get hungry in the morning no matter how pretty they look. My aunt made me a couple of Pop-Tarts because we both figured why risk me eating anything that could ruin my outfit. In hindsight it probably would’ve been better to have fed me first before getting me dress, but my aunt saw how receptive I was to her special gift of girling me up for Christmas she thought it would’ve been cruel to make me wait.

I sat in the chair, a napkin tucked into the top of the dress to help protect from the wayward crumbs that most kids seem adept at making no matter what they decided to eat. Instead of taking huge chunks out of my food I decided to take small dainty bites just to be on the safe side. My aunt sat in the chair next to me, just watching. Usually I would be self conscious when I was being scrutinized so closely, but this time I was okay with my aunt’s ever watchful eyes because I understood why her gaze never left me. Certainly I looked different with the Maroon party dress, the bangs and the tights, but that wasn’t even the best part of the gift.

As I nibbled on my second Pop-Tart, sitting in my chair in total silence even though my Aunt was in arms reach, I was suddenly aware that I felt different. I didn’t feel different in the way that I felt as if my penis had vanished away forever and I was physically a girl with all the proper parts that went with my current window dressing; though if I were given the opportunity at that very moment I wouldn’t have hesitated. No, I felt different in the way that even though I knew what my anatomy held in store, I was finally free of the curse that was my outward appearance when I was naked. There was a contentment and an odd sense of peace that welled up inside my stomach that told me that I was in a dress not because I was pretending to be a girl, but that in someway my aunt knew that the best gift for me this December 25th was to allow me, even if it were for 24 hours, to stop pretending to be a boy.

As I finished my light breakfast, the thrill of wearing the party dress was waning, but I in no way, shape or form was ready for it to be taken off my delicate body. I was keenly aware that though the novelty of wearing the dress had worn off, it was replaced with something entirely unexpected. I felt normal, which might seem an odd thing for a boy wearing a dress to say, but that was the truth. I felt comfortable in what I was wearing in a way that I had never felt before. It was almost as if putting on the dress wasn’t the same as putting on a costume, but more like taking one off. These thoughts swirled around my head as I ate my last bit of breakfast and took my last sip of milk that I made for sure wouldn’t dribble down my chin.

My aunt continued to smile at me, all the while wondering if the transformation was something I was doing for her benefit or something entirely different. It was hard for her to say, but she was enjoying the moments that she was sharing with the one child she loved as her own and would do anything to increase their happiness. “I think you finished those Pop-Tarts in record time.”

I escaped from my internal thoughts and looked up at my aunt. “I didn’t eat my breakfast that fast, Aunt Roe.”

“I know,” my aunt said in delight. “In fact that was the longest you sat at the table to eat a meal in quite a while. Normally you’re like a ravenous dinosaur and try to get everything in two big chomps, but today you were quite civilized.”

“I didn’t want to ruin my pretty dress, Aunt Roe,” I said in childlike innocence.

My aunt was surprised how much I sounded like a girl. It wasn’t just that my voice was maybe an octave higher than usual, or that my words no longer came out in a rush clump that seemed to make one word try to run over the next, but were now even and measured and cleared than I have ever sounded before. Though the sound of my voice had a feminine quality to it, probably the way most prepubescent boys voices could be mistaken as a girls, it were also the words that I chose to say. She put her hand on top of mind and was glad when I didn’t flinch. “You did a wonderful job, Katie.”

I smiled at my Aunt, enjoying her touch. Suddenly things felt so natural that I didn’t feel the need to worry or to put on a show. Things could just happen and I finally didn’t have to appear tougher than I really was. But this wasn’t a day to worry about the horrors of the past; this was a day where all things would be made new and wonderful.

“Okay,” my aunt said while standing up. “You keep busy for a while so I can get ready and then we’ll go to Paul’s house and really celebrate the holiday.”

“Yes, Aunt Roe,” I answered, knowing I was given free reign to do anything that I wanted. I watched as she walked out the kitchen, through the living room and into her bedroom. She slid the plastic curtain closed behind her and I was left to my own devices.

I sat in my chair for a few moments, kicking my feet back and forth beneath the chair, loving the way my tights made a swish, swish, swish sound against the ruffles of the dress. It would certainly take my aunt some time to get ready for the day and I wondered what I could do to keep myself busy that wouldn’t ruin the way I looked and didn’t involve watching mindless cartoons.

It suddenly occurred to me what I could do and I hopped off the chair and found my book bag stored neatly in the corner next to the credenza. I unzipped the ruddy blue canvas bag and took out my black and white composition note book and a pencil. I returned to my seat and decided I would write something.

I opened the book to a blank page and stared at it for a little while as I wondered if I should write about my Christmas present, but I decided not to. Then in a flash of inspiration I knew what I wanted to compose.

‘Who I am,’ I titled the page, writing in the neatest print that I ever had achieved before. I knew I was purposely writing like I had seen girls in my class do before, but I wasn’t doing it for anyone other than myself.

‘By Katie Miliano,’ I wrote my new name on the line just underneath the title I chose to use my Aunt’s last name instead of Keith’s Leonard because in a perfect world that is who I would be, with no questions asked.

‘I am a flower,’ I began to write, finding that I enjoyed the craft almost as much as I enjoyed wearing the dress. ‘When a flower is a baby it is just a seed, and it looks like every other seed. You can’t tell if it’s a rose, or a daisy, or a Venus flytrap. When a flower is growing it doesn’t really look like a flower either, it just looks like a green stick that is growing up from the ground. But when someone loves it and waters it and takes real good care of it, the flower grows and soon is something very pretty. So today I am a flower and I like being one.

The end.’

I looked over my work and was very pleased. I had never written anything before just for the sake of writing it for myself, but I thought it was very nice. I also thought at the time that “Maybe one day when I grow up I can write stories and people can read them and we can all be happy together.” It was a very nice thought. I was also amazed with how neat my penmanship was, I guess things turn out better when you aren’t trying to go faster than all the other boys.

I closed my composition notebook and returned it back to my book bag. I knew that enough time had gone by and that my Aunt should be just about done getting ready. I walked into the living room and looked at the tree. As a seven year old I marveled that it was only two hours ago that I found a small package under that Christmas tree that totally made this day awesome.

I heard the screen being opened and turned around to see my aunt standing in the doorway. She wore a simple blue dress and very light makeup. Her hair was done a little extra special and she wore her diamond pendant that matched her earrings. This was as much as my aunt every dressed up, but I now had a new appreciation for the minor touches that she applied.

“You look very pretty, Aunt Roe,” I piped up as I stood up from the couch.

“Thank you very much,” my Aunt replied with a grin. As a boy I never did pay her any compliments, so I figured she enjoyed this side of me for at least that one reason. “We better get going,” she said but didn’t sound overly rushed. “Paul is going to be waiting for us.”

“Okay, Aunt Roe.”

My aunt walked to the closet. She pulled out her winter coat that I was familiar with and put it on. She then pulled out a long red winter coat that I had never seen before, one that had a faux white fur collar and matching faux-fur on the cuffs of the hand and around the hem.

Instinctively I knew it was for me and I didn’t resist as my Aunt helped me put it on. It felt very warm and even though I didn’t look in the mirror I knew it didn’t detract from me looking every bit the precious little girl.

My aunt and I left our apartment, only pausing to lock the door as we made our way down the hall to leave the building. As my aunt opened the door we were hit with a blast of cold air and suddenly I was frozen. Even though my aunt had already walked down the steps I barely stuck my head out the door as I looked to the left and to the right to see if there was anyone outside who would recognize me.

My Aunt waited patiently on the sidewalk as I took a tentative step onto the stoop. I stood on the top step, my knees shaking more from fear than from the cold. All of a sudden I felt like maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It was one thing to be safe in my own home and allow my feminine side to show, but it was entirely something different to go brazenly out into the real world where people might not be to accepting.

My aunt completely turned towards me, a slight frown on her face. I could tell that the frown was not about the way I was acting, but because she could sense my fear and wished that I didn’t feel the emotion.

“Katie,” my aunt said softly as my eyes darted up and down the street looking for any excuse to make me dive back into the safety of my own home.

I didn’t reply. I just took a deep breath and shivered in fright. I had never been so scared before in my life, and I had gone through some very nasty things that would even make a marine cringe.

“Katie,” my aunt said again, her voice calm and even without even the hint of anger or disappointment in it. “Look at me.’

Slowly I turned my head and my eyes to my aunt. It took a few seconds but I was finally able to quit checking the street for people who might make fun of me.

“Katie,” my aunt repeated my new name for a third time and that caused me to keep my focus entirely on her. “You know that I love you, right?”

The question was one that I wasn’t really ready for and it caused my mind to snap away from its current concerns. My chin quivered in the cold. “Of course I know you love me Aunt Roe,” I managed to utter.

“You know that I will never let anything bad ever happen to you, right?”

I slowly nodded my head yes as I began to be mesmerized by my Aunt’s words.

“It’s okay to be yourself,” my aunt said as she reached out her hand towards me. “No one is going to hurt you; I’m here to protect you.”

Those words were like magic that broke the spell of fear that had gripped me. I tentatively reached out my arm and allowed my Aunt to gently grab my hand and hold it as I made my way down the three steps and out into the world.

“That’s my girl,” my aunt said as I held on tightly to her hand as we made our way down the block.

We walked past two more apartment buildings before we reached a set of green garage doors on Himrod Street. It was at that point where my fear abated and I let go of the death grip that I had on my poor Aunt’s hand. But I have to give her credit, she didn’t complain one bit but I’m sure her hand hurt just a little in the cold weather. After the set of garages and a tall wooden fence that hid one of the few back yards that actually had access to the street was the final building on the street before we got to Seneca Avenue. It was in that apartment building where my friend Katrina lived on the second floor with her parents. I looked up to where the window of her apartment was to see if she might be looking out.

Katrina and I had been friends for quite some time. She was the only kid on the block that was my age and even though we didn’t go to the same school, we were pretty close. I smiled as I thought that it was with her that I probably acted more like my true self even though the adults probably passed it off as I didn’t have many other options. But Katrina and I would play with her dolls or play patty cake or simply just talk the hours away as we sat in the shade besides her building. Katrina and Katie, so very similar in name, I thought. I let out a slight chuckle that my aunt probably wondered about, but I then thought, Katrina and Katie, no just similar in name, but just plain similar to each other.

Even the streets of our little area of New York City wasn’t as busy as usual, it certainly wasn’t void of human existence. Once we got to the corner, there was a man who just crossed the street towards us. He looked at my aunt and tipped his hat, “Merry Christmas ma’am,” he said cordially. Then he looked at me and his smiled remained in place as if nothing were amiss, “and Merry Christmas to you, little girl.”

“What do you say, Katie,” my Aunt prodded, hoping to build my self confidence.

“Merry Christmas, sir,” I said in a shy mousey voice that was not in the least put on.

“She’ll be a heartbreaker someday,” the man said and then went along his way.

My aunt and I continued across the street as we made our way to Paul’s house. There were plenty of people who passed us by, many smiling and wishing us well this day, but not one gave a second glance as if to wonder why a boy was wearing a dress.

We got to the corner of Stanhope Street, when we stopped for a second. My aunt turned and faced me. “See Katie, there is nothing to worry about.”

I grinned as I realized that she was right. “I guess I was being silly, huh?”

“Not at all,” my Aunt said. “This is all very new to you and you have every right to show your fears or any other emotion, but hear me when I tell you this. Never, ever, be afraid to be the real you. Do you know why?”

I stood there thinking, putting my finger on my cheek as I contemplated all that my aunt was saying and asking of me. “Why, Aunt roe?”

“Because no matter what, I love you. Whether you are Keith or Katie or somewhere in between, I will always love you. The only thing that matters to me is that you are happy with who you are, who you really are, and I hope you never forget that.”

“I promise I won’t,” I said as I felt the warmth of her words fight off the winter chill.

We continued our journey in silence and in no time we were at Paul’s apartment. My aunt allowed me to ring the bell and we were buzzed in. My Aunt and I walked down the dark hallway and made it to Paul’s apartment. My Aunt went in first but I was just behind her.

As I was entering the apartment, I could hear that Paul and his friend Jeff were in the middle of a light hearted conversation and there chattered filled the entire kitchen. But as I came into view, all of a sudden, their conversation ceased as they looked at me in disbelief. I stood just inside the doorway but it was as if I had just stepped out onto a stage.

“Let me take your coat,” my aunt said.

I didn’t say a word as I felt very much on display. Paul and Jeff never took their eyes off of me as my Aunt removed my coat and I stood, feeling very much exposed, for them to see me in my pretty maroon party dress.

“Oh my,” Jeff managed to say as his jaw dropped and his mouth stayed wide open.

“Oh my indeed,” Paul said as he stood up and made his way over to me. “But who is this delicious little creature?”

“It’s me Uncle Paul, it’s Keith,” I said, not realizing that I instinctively called him Uncle as my aunt had been wishing me to for months.

“No, no, no,” Paul shook his head at me. “Keith is a dreadful little boy, and you are all but. Why you are nothing but sugar and spice.”

“Well, I am Katie today,” I conceded.

Paul put his hands on my shoulders and turned me towards him. “Something tells me you’ve been Katie for quite some time, but it is certainly nice to finally meet you in person.”

I giggled involuntarily, certainly appreciating the kind words. “Merry Christmas, Uncle Paul.”

“Merry Christmas, Katie,” Paul said and then pulled me into him so he could give me a hug.

I didn’t remember the last time I was embraced by a man, if ever, but it made me feel good. Though Paul was gay, his strong hands made me feel safe as they kept me close to him. I was just as surprised as he was when I didn’t try to pull away. Instead, I did my best to hug him back while making sure I didn’t crush my dress.

In an instant we separated. Paul got down on one knee so that we could be on eye level with one another. “Now what are we going to do with you while we get things ready before we drive to Gerard’s house.”

“I know, I know,” I said somberly. “Children should be seen and not heard.”

Paul laughed. “That only applies to dreadful little boys,” he said flamboyantly. “Certainly not to precious pretty little girls.”

I blushed at the compliment. “I know. If he wants, maybe Jeff can help me with my drawing.’

Jeff stood up from his seat. “I have a better idea,” he said. “How about I make a drawing of you? I never had such a pretty model before and this way will be out of the way of the kitchen.”

I smiled in approval and Jeff took me by the hand off to the spare bedroom.

Once in the bedroom, Jeff grabbed his art supplies. I could tell instantly that this was his serious art stuff, things that he wouldn’t let anyone else use. He set up a small easel and placed it in the center of the room.

“How about we sit you in the rocking chair, princess,” he instructed.

“Okay,” I said as my face lit up.

“You like being called princess, don’t you,” Jeff said as he positioned my hands on my lap and smoothed out the skirt of my dress.

I let out a shy giggle as I shook my head yes.

“And I am certain it makes you happy that the little boys find you pretty.”

“Jeff,” I said in an elongated whine as my face became red.

“Exactly what I thought.” Jeff gave a light laugh. “Now stay just like that and let’s capture your beauty.”

I stayed as still as a seven year old child could as Jeff attempted to capture this day with paper and colored pencil.

At the same time I was being drawn, my Aunt and Paul were sitting at the kitchen table. I was too far to hear the conversation, but I knew it was about me.

“Wow,” Paul said as he started putting small wrapped presents into a bag.

“Wow indeed,” my aunt replied.

“Looks like you were right all along.”

“It’s not like you didn’t have your hunches about things too.”

“So how did it go this morning,” Paul asked.

“He didn’t even offer up a token resistance,” my Aunt confided.

“You mean she?”

My aunt laughed. “It’s looking more and more that way isn’t it.”

“To be honest, I didn’t think Katie would be so utterly convincing as a little girl.”

“The dress helps.” My aunt tried to play it off.

“It’s more than the dress, it’s her whole attitude.”

“I know,” my aunt admitted. “What happened to all that defensiveness.”

“Maybe that was part of the way she guarded against people seeing the real her. Not many parents would be so understanding of this, you know?”

“You’re right. But there is still a long day ahead of us to see how this turns out.”

“Just let things unfold naturally, sweetie, and we’ll know soon enough.”

“Did you hear her call you Uncle Paul?”

“Just one more reason to love her all the more.”

“I can’t believe I am saying this, because it sounds a little put on. But I didn’t think I could love him any more than I did, but this side of her,” she emphasized the feminine pronoun, “is showing me an even greater love.”

“That’s because you’re seeing the real person, the one you have loved since they were a baby. Oh, his mother certainly did a number on him when she tried to steal him away from you, but your love is breaking through.”

“The only thing I know is I’m looking forward to seeing this person that’s been behind the mask.”

“And it looks like you’re finally getting your chance.”

Author's note: I suppose my mood is melancholy right now, perhaps I'm guarding myself from breaking into tears. I certainly hope I am honoring the memory of my aunt and her friend Paul. Though this is a light story, am I the only one seeing the depth of emotion and the scope of the message that seems to be portrayed in this piece??