The photo for Katie in my phone was from this moment when we first lived together. I came home and found Katie making dinner, kitchen overwhelmed with dishes everywhere because that’s how she does anything – like a tornado. She looked at me, grabbed the baguette and mimicked playing air guitar. Our kitchen in that apartment was tiny, barely enough space for two people. In the shape of a perfect square, the fake-wood cabinets and beige walls were the only “typical” space in an apartment where every room had quizzical 70-degree angles and wall outlets never conveniently placed. The apartment sat in the corner of a large complex, providing very little natural light, making the short 7.5 hour days of winter even gloomier. It wasn’t our favorite. The space never felt quite right even with large attempts to organize and create space where it didn’t exist.
The photo is of Katie in her male body playing that baguette. She’s wearing a shirt with the Banksy baseball player throwing an Angry Bird. Her short, almost-buzzed hair and clean-shaven face mimic the face we all think musicians make when they are focused. I can’t imagine the entire event, me coming home and her playing the baguette, lasted more than 10 seconds, but somehow I managed to capture a photo of it. I love the photo because it represents the whimsy I love about Katie. She has this unique way of looking at the world that brings me out of my own head and reminds me to enjoy the little things.
I know I’ve talked about photos quite a bit on this blog. This photo, the one that greeted me every time Katie texts or calls, the icon that I look at on Find My Friends to figure out if Katie is close to home, this photo means a lot to me. I’ve told myself since Katie came out that the person in the photo is the same because they are. This photo is of Katie. I’ve asked Katie a few times if this photo is okay with her as I haven’t wanted to make her uncomfortable. She’s always been fine with it.
Today, for whatever reason, it felt like time to let the photo go. I updated it to a more recent one, one that reflects the vision Katie has for herself inside. The journey I have taken to get to this point feels so complicated and overwhelming sometimes. The photos are a reminder of the person I was married to who lived a life in 2D. Yet, over the past almost-two years, I’ve watched my life fill with memories shared with a person living her life in 3D. It is truly humbling to be part of, even with the sadness that sometimes accompanies it.