The incident soon ended and wereturned to the bedroom. We continued watching the snowfall fora long time. I leaned sleepily on the window sill, and li...tened toher magical voice. She was talking about something she was doingat school. I was soon overcome by the languorous peace of beingwith her, something entirely absent from my relationship with mymother. When I opened my eyes again it was Saturday morning. My Momwas back home fussing around the house, and Martha Jane was gone. Several months. Did they really care whatclothes I had on, or how my hair looked. I suppose as long as I was funthen they were fine with it. Even though Friends were fine with me. I remember that other adults werenot. "Don't you think his shorts look like a skirt?" "Why do you put your boy in that t-shirt? My daughter has the same." "Why do you call him princess. He will get confused who he really is." "Don't you think that you should cut his hair?" My mother just shrugged them off with the excuse that I liked. More

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