To the person in my aisle picking up the box of mini wheats, I know.  To the person in my aisle who my mom had to look at twice to see if they were a boy or girl,I understand. To the person in my aisle who people won’t stop whispering about,don’t feel alone.  Every time I see someone like you I can’t help but smile,even though I looked away when you looked at me in fear of being called weird.I did smile.  My eyes lit up And i has to suppress every thought telling me “call them beautiful” I know the stares I know the double takes I get the wrong pronouns.  I wanted to take your hand, squeeze it tightly and say “ I love the new you “  So to the person in my aisle to took a look at me up and down and smiled that all knowing smile,we’re one in the same. Have a good day.