Accepting Thanksgiving

"Thanks for that, son. And I'd like to think that that was part of it. But mostly it was because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Yes. I think it is likely your mother and I realized you turned that way—that you were gay too—even before you did. I don't think you fully knew it before you joined the Marines and went off to Afghanistan. Your mother and I hoped you went off because you were confused about yourself and not because you were afraid what we'd think. Sure, we would have liked for you to marry and continue the generations of Parsons on this farm, but nature is nature. We can't live on a farm like this and not understand that feelings like that can't just be a matter of personal choice. We saw it in the letters you sent back. That captain of yours was more than just your boss. We could tell that from your letters. So, we knew you'd be broken when you came home to us. We just wanted you to come home to us. But back to Frank. We offered him a job and a home mainly because we thought what if it had been you? What if it were our son who had these feelings and it became known he did? Would we want to ostracize him or have him accepted here? The answer was pretty obvious to us. We just give thanks you're still alive—that you survived Afghanistan when your captain didn't—and that you've come home. If coming home and being happy here includes Frank, that will be OK with us."

"I don't know what to say," Marty whispered after a brief pause. "I don't know where it goes from here."

"Well, I think it goes one step at a time for us—first by making the most of Thanksgiving by setting a place for Frank at the table tonight. Next, I guess, is that if you want to move your room from the house out to the old homestead building, with Frank, that will keep your mother and me from waking up at night hearing you trying to get into the house without waking us."