"I'm family," she said

I went to get my eyes checked after much reminding from my parents and forgetting by me. I wasn't wild about the fact that the appointment was at 8am, nor by the fact that I didn't get to sleep until about 4am the night before. We needed to get it done before the end of the year, when we lose our insurance.

I waited around. The receptionist has always been the smiliest person, like she always remember who you are and is delighted to see you. I swear I could hear a Minnesotan accent. The man who gave me the prelim procedures was very kind, hairy, and Hispanic, in that order. He touched my knee when joking.

I couldn't be roused, though. I had other things on my mind. In and out, such is the nature of obligations. I asked her where the cheapest frames were as I walked around and tested out my new astigmatism corrector, which looked like a miniature version of the ridiculously complicated "which is better, this or this?" lensed apparatus and was just about as heavy sitting on the bridge of my nose; I was presented with "less expensive" and wasn't thrilled by what I saw.

I was relieved of the facial cross I bore and was invited to look at frames. I showed her which of the eight that were my minimum options better suited me. She looked up my insurance to see if I had any more options.

Nonchalantly, she said, "I noticed your earring. I'm family, too."

I wasn't struck by it at first. The statement dug into my flimsy early-morning armor, but it kept some of its momentum, digging in, tenacious like a thistle. My insurance information came up and chipped away at the plate metal; my options had opened up. She showed me the display that increased my frame choices tenfold.

I told her I hadn't heard the term "family" before. I'd always heard "ally". She said she hadn't heard of that one. We chuckled at the generations.

She told me about her kids. Her twelve-year old daughter, apparently, has proudly stood up for her moms in class. She allowed a male classmate to come out to her about his gay dads.

I got it, finally. Family and Ally are not synonymous.

We talked about her gay church, about looking straight, about relationships, about supportive friends. I told her what I was going for with frames--androgynous femme--and she found the perfect pair for me. I told her why I thought my eyesight might have changed so dramatically since last year. When Kind Hairy Hispanic Man came back to get me--"I'm so sorry for making you wait, I thought you were dilated by now"--she gave me a card for the church she went to.

Maybe it was my dilated pupils, but the world seemed to glow that day.

Apparently, transitions change corneas. It's official!