I've spent the morning curled up on the couch with my partner and my metamour, showing each other music and eating together. The flowers I bought for Nikki are blooming bright and beautiful, bringing spring to the winter in a flash of daisies and yellows. Earlier I sipped blueberry tea with honey to soothe my sick throat, and now I'm about to start my day of errands, homework, and spending time with friends.
I still can't get over how full my life feels these days, and nearly all of it good. A room away, Nikki is starting to cook for a potluck later, and walking up the street through the park to my best friend's house flashes through my mind. Just then, Nikki takes a break from cooking and kisses my shoulder as she walks into the next room. As I smile at her, I've never felt more home in a person's eyes.
A year ago, my life would seem unimagineable: too good to exist. It still does, but I'm living it. My metamour walks in to the kitchen where I'm standing now, catching her breath from a jaunt through the cold outside, and I realize again that I have a family among my friends and loved ones as she smiles in my direction.
My five years on testosterone was less than two weeks ago. My twenty-ninth birthday is in four days. I smile as I glance around my home. I love my life.
