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They walked together to the launching dock. As Marco released his lantern into the darkening sky, he watched it rise alongside hundreds of others. Some read “Love Wins.” Some read “Rest in Power, Marsha.” One read simply “Dad.” Another read “First Pride.”
He felt Sam’s hand slip into his.
Marco’s lantern wobbled for a moment, caught in a current of air, and then it found its place among the others. Not at the front. Not at the back. Just there—a small, warm light in a constellation of lights, each one different, each one part of the same imperfect, luminous sky.
The first year, he held one for his cousin, Elena, who had come out as a lesbian and been met with silence from their abuela. Marco, barely seventeen and still calling himself an “ally,” had stood in the crowd with a paper star that read “Familia es Familia.”
They walked together to the launching dock. As Marco released his lantern into the darkening sky, he watched it rise alongside hundreds of others. Some read “Love Wins.” Some read “Rest in Power, Marsha.” One read simply “Dad.” Another read “First Pride.”
He felt Sam’s hand slip into his.
Marco’s lantern wobbled for a moment, caught in a current of air, and then it found its place among the others. Not at the front. Not at the back. Just there—a small, warm light in a constellation of lights, each one different, each one part of the same imperfect, luminous sky.
The first year, he held one for his cousin, Elena, who had come out as a lesbian and been met with silence from their abuela. Marco, barely seventeen and still calling himself an “ally,” had stood in the crowd with a paper star that read “Familia es Familia.”
