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.