Our Move To Spokane

It was February and I was in the first grade when my father was killed in an automobile accident. He had been a high school teacher and the basketball coach so he was quite well known in Rosalia. I will not speak about my dad on these pages. Not only are my memories blurred when it comes to my father, but as far as my life as Veronica unfolded he had no real role.

Within a few months, my mother's grandfather also passed after a lenghty bout with cancer. Between insurance settlements from the accident and the inheritance Mom got from her grandfather's estate, Mom describe our financial situation as 'comfortable.' She would not say we were rich, but on occasion she would add 'Very comfortable' with a smile.

It was to my understanding somewhat commonly know around Rosalia that Mom could never have another child -- such is life in a small community.  Between this tradegy and those that had befallen her in recent weeks, Mom felt as though every treated her with too much sympathy and compassion, verging on pity.  So one day she suggested that  we should sell our home and move into Spokane where she already had the dance studio business.

My mother had always kept my hair longer than most boys as was also my preference. After the accident, Mom had a lot that had to be handled including the deteriorating health issues of her grandfather. Getting me a haircut was never became a priority for her and by the time school was out my hair was quite long.

Once school was out, I pretty much spent all of my time as Veronica, including our trips into Spokane to shop.  I also had time to work on some dancing and made a few videos to post on YouTube.

On the day we were to move into our new home, as we were approaching Spokane, I asked my Mom a question.  "Now that we will be living in Spokane all the time, does that mean that I can be Veronica all the time?"  Over the last two or three years, Mom and I had made dozens of trips into Spokane and more often than not I had gone as Veronica so being in Spokane and being Veronica seemed interlocked.

Mom however shook her head and said that it would be not possible.  She then began very silent and after glancing my way several times she said, "You know Veronica.  There is one option we could consider."  While Mom was willing to homeschool me, she stressed that there may come a time when she would feel it was best for me to go to public school -- "As a boy."  She made me promise to respect that condition and then we started making plans for her and Veronica.

With the exception of a few family get-togethers I would spend the next five years of my life living a life of a girl.