Transvestia

wrong about doing this? I realize that you have accepted yourself and are happy to be as you are. But I'm not sure that this is me."

"If it's not you, then of course it's wrong but, looking at your eyes and seeing them shine with new life, I find it hard to believe that what I'm looking at isn't you, And if it is, it's right. It's as right as rain, because it's never wrong to be yourself. Still, it's up to you. You

are the only one who can decide."

She closed her eyes tightly and stood there with her little fists clenched at her sides tense and trembling. For what seemed an eternity, no word was spoken.

"What is it to be?", I whispered. "What is your

name?"

Another pause, briefly. Then she opened her eyes, looked at me, and said, softly "Harriet!"

A little tear welled up in each of her eyes and, im- pulsively I brushed them away with my fingers, held her head in my hands and kissed her on the forehead. We clasped hands, set down and the talk gushed forth girl talk without restraint now full and in the certain knowledge of perfect friendship and understanding.

Then we took some pictures, Larry came back, we said goodnight, and I was alone with my memories. What wonderful ones they were. I recounted them all each delicious little adventure of the day, as I changed into my nightgown and creamed my face. They hardly seemed real, but yet they were. My head sank into the pillow and soon I was walking barefoot in my nightgown across a satin covered meadow, in the moonlight. There were several moons and they were carried by Polynesians in silver trays which they placed in two rows leading to the sugar-plum tree. I picked one, and handed it to a little girl who then vanished.

THE END