Page 20 of After the Rain

But watching Ezra with Cooper yesterday, I'd noticed how often he touched—a hand on the shoulder, fingers ruffling hair, the kind of gentle contact that conveyed care and connection. I'd found myself wanting that touch, wanting to be someone Ezra reached for without thinking.

The revelation was both thrilling and terrifying.

Cooper madefriends with another child at the park, a boy whose two fathers were supervising from a nearby bench. Before I could second-guess myself, I walked over.

"Beautiful day," I said, settling beside them.

"Perfect for wearing kids out," one of the fathers replied with a grin. "I'm David, and that's my husband Michael. Jackson's dad and dad."

The casual way he said "husband" made something in my chest loosen. This was just normal for them, unremarkable.

"Wade. Cooper's father. They seem to be hitting it off."

"Jackson's great at making friends. We're new to town—moved here six months ago when Michael got transferred. Everyone's been really welcoming."

"That's good to hear. Cooper's in kindergarten at Cedar Falls Elementary. Loves his teacher."

"Oh, Mr. Mitchell?" Michael joined the conversation. "We've heard wonderful things. Jackson's hoping to get him next year."

"Ezra's fantastic," David added. "We met him at the school's diversity night. Really thoughtful about making sure all kinds of families feel included."

My pulse quickened at the casual use of Ezra's first name, at the suggestion that he was active in supporting LGBTQ+ families.

"Cooper definitely feels included. Ezra has been great about helping him adjust to our family changes."

"Divorce?" Michael asked gently.

"Yeah. Recent. Still figuring out the co-parenting thing."

"That's tough. But kids are resilient. And having supportive teachers makes all the difference."

The conversation drifted to typical parent territory, but underneath I was processing the reality of same-sex couples parenting together, building families that looked different but functioned with the same love and commitment I wanted for Cooper.

This could be normal. This could be my life.

"Daddy, can you push me on the swings?" Cooper called.

As I pushed my son higher, listening to his delighted laughter, I tried to imagine different versions of our future. Would Cooper be okay with having a dad who was attracted to men? Could he handle explaining to friends that his father had a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend?

"The two daddies seemed really nice," Cooper said during the drive home.

"They did. Jackson's lucky to have parents who care about him so much."

"Do you think it's weird to have two daddies instead of a mommy and daddy?"

My heart hammered as I considered my response.

"No, buddy. I think what matters is that families love each other and take care of each other. That can look lots of different ways."

"Good. Because Jackson's really happy and his dads are super cool. They're building him a treehouse too."

Cooper's easy acceptance felt like a gift. Maybe his generation approached love with fewer assumptions than mine had. Maybe the world was more ready for different kinds of families than I'd realized.

Maybe I was the one who needed to catch up.

I foundmyself at my computer, typing searches I'd never imagined making.

Coming out in your thirties after divorceHow to know if you're gay later in lifeMen who realized they were gay after marriage.

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