Shadow (dariaphoebe) wrote,

I was nervous as I climbed aboard the bicycle for what was sure to be a boring ride: short and flat, crossing from the coffee shop I'd just left and would later return to over the river for a meeting downtown. Within a block, I regretted my lack of gloves, but there was no time for that. When a professional's time is being donated, respecting it is important.

I swapped my hands into my pockets for warmth as I rode, choosing my path carefully to avoid needing to take a lane on a bridge busy with late-morning rush traffic due to construction elsewhere. The goal was obvious, but the timing gave me a heavier heart than it might have been otherwise.

Five minutes before the appointment, I locked up the bicycle and walked inside, hoping my hands would be warm before another was offered to me to shake. I had my fingerprint card and my birth certificate, and within minutes I was being briefed by the attorneys who'd be filing my name change petition. But as I signed several copies of the document petitioning the court to legally recognize me as Daria Phoebe Brashear, I was distracted by the previous day's news that the first Brashear optics factory, probably visible by squinting out the window behind me in the office tower, was being demolished.

If he was "Uncle John" to those who held him in esteem, I'd hoped that the preservation of this site would provide people also with a view into the role of his beloved, "Aunt Phoebe". Today, though, it was clear that was not to be.
Tags: family, name change, transition

  • (no subject)

    For just a moment, as I continued along my riverside path, I let my eyes turn inland. There wasn't much reason to: ahead of me lie the trail I…

  • (no subject)

    As we stood at the curb, we talked about the city, the place I now called home. Until moments before, it had been business as we walked around an…

  • (no subject)

    As the rest of the band stepped away, just one remained. He delivered just a single verse, acoustic, before the others returned for the final song of…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.