He lived in the family room on a borrowed hospital bed while the Christmas decorations went up. Patti unpacked the attic boxes at his feet, and his niece and nephew ran up to him with each selected treasure, me next, Uncle Jack, I want to go! Uncle Jack flashed his teeth, next to the fireplace, and over there by the window. The children ran back and forth from Uncle Jack to the walls and the corners of the room creating a spider web of tracks that secured him to their world. He asked Patti when they were going to get the tree, and Patti ignored him. She strung popcorn in her own corner of the web.

Patti had dark hair like their mother. It naturally curled around her ears and under her jaw line which she thought added the perfect touch to any perm, but she hadn’t had a perm in almost a year. When George left her in the spring, she fell hard, emotionally and financially. And, in the summer, Jack fell ill confining himself to a somewhat solitary life in their living room. Why did you have to ask? She shot him an annoyed glance and watched her children frantically jump up and down begging for a tree.

“Well, what do you suggest, Jack?” Patti asked pointedly. At thirty, Jack had won three consecutive years of their town’s “Season’s Greetings” competition for “best exterior design.” If anyone knew how to make the best of Christmas decorating, it really was Jack.

He smiled politely, “I suggest that you go outside and chop a tree down, darlin’.” She stopped stringing and glanced over at him. It was true; she could go outside and chop a tree.  They had a small ax for trimming branches, and the tree only had to be big enough to support the weight of their angel for the top. She sighed and put the popcorn string down to put her camouflage boots on. Jack sank back in his bed full of delight.

“Oooo, we’re gonna get a tree!” his nephew shouted. His niece hooted and hollered.

The sky was clear, and the moon hung below the tree line. Patti could make out the start of the woods behind their small trailer as she passed the dog kennel to retrieve the ax from a small stump her son hacked yesterday. One small step for man… she thought making her way to the beginning of the woods. “One giant leap” she whispered crossing the boundary between their world and God’s.

Her boots crunched the frosted ground, her eyes scanning the area for any trees that grew just above her waist. She made her way to the clearing they had picnics in during the summer time. Most of the shorter trees will line the inner rim, she struggled up the side of the hill. The trees parted at the top of the slant revealing a semi-circular field with long grass stiffened by the cold. Patti remembered a small bush that was growing when she freed her mind of George. It was on the far left side of the clearing with its now naked branches jutting out into the freezing air. She felt the small weight of the ax in her hand and held the top of the skeleton with the other.

An hour later, she could finally see the trailer through the last bit of trees. Hauling the bush halted her journey numerous times, its tiny fingers grasping the ground and hooking its legs on larger tree trunks along the way. She dropped the ax next to the stump and pulled the hesitant bush through the narrow doorframe. When she had the tree in its stand, she stood back admiring her little feat. She imagined its decoration under Jack’s guidance, the children running back and forth, and her popcorn string draped over the mantel. Her vision was interrupted by a shift in atmosphere like a force had been lifted from the room. Patti turned around to the hospital bed where Jack laid. The children meticulously wrapped his body in blankets to keep him warm, but his eyelids were blue from Jack Frost’s kiss. Outside, the first snow christened the soft earth.

Copyright, Kennedy LeJeune. 2015. 

September 17, 2015

Today, I feel like a writer.  Today, I feel like a person. A real live breathing respected and dignified person.

I hope to make another Queer University vid soon. There have been many updates as far as my gender identity goes (or lack thereof) and updates on the fiance possibly getting their hormones soon… which is awesome. There have been updates on my family’s view of me, and they are all positive but not without past conflict.

My grandmother has lung cancer. I don’t know what else to say about that. It’s depressing and sad. She lives two hours away from me, and I started school along with working in my free time. I have visited her once since xmas.

I write short stories now because I am forced, too. But, it’s a good thing. I have always done it. They just haven’t been full fleshed out stories. I will post as the deadlines pass. New one coming after I get the grade, and you all should know I made an A on “Mother Knows Best.”

My sister drives now and has some 2013 model of a car. I took a ride with her and my youngest sister a few weeks ago; I miss them dearly. They really trip me out. The youngest is so snappy and sarcastic. The driving one is free as the wind.

My brother is in Texas, but he drives home every weekend from Houston because he has a good job that values him as an individual. I think he is doing good things where he is right now. I am proud of him.

I guess I should finish my homework. 

Really, I’m reading Ulysses.

I hate it.

There are no words.

Mother Knows Best

“The nurse left work at five o’clock,” the night nurse looked quizzically at Dot.

“That’s not my baby. The nurse who was here earlier knows which one is mine, but darlin’ I’m tellin’ you, that’s not my baby,” Dot was becoming angry at this new nurse who thought she knew better. How could the nurse know which baby was hers? The nurse didn’t go through twelve hours of labor to deliver a beautiful baby girl.

“Ma’am, this is your baby,” the nurse was becoming impatient.

“Honey, take that baby back to where it came from ‘cuz I’m gonna show you which baby is mine.”

The nurse turned and walked out of the room with her hips swaying.

“She gon’ get an attitude with me when I know which baby came out of my own cooter!”

Dot’s husband Merlin sat quietly in the arm chair. He honestly couldn’t tell the difference between the baby he’d seen earlier and the one the night nurse presented to his wife.

“Merlin, help me tie this Gawd-awful hospital dress,” Dot stood up and turned around with her bare buttocks facing her husband. He could see she was developing cellulite around her inner thighs, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Where do you think yer goin’, Dot?” Merlin asked with a genuine curiosity.

“I’m goin’ down to the baby ward to gaze at my little baby and show that damn woman which one is mine, and you’re comin’ with me.”

Merlin rolled his eyes just as he finished tying the knot behind his wife’s back. They walked down the hallway to the desk that served as the center of the hospital. Two receptionists glanced up at the odd pair advancing upon them rather quickly.

“Ma’am, you need to dress appropriately before leaving your room.”

Dot’s feet were getting cold on the hard tile floor. She opened her mouth to say something she was about to regret when Merlin interrupted, “We just want to see our baby before we go to sleep tonight.”

“Oh! Yes, sir,” the receptionist hastily replied. “Straight down that hall on your left.”

“Thank you,” Merlin smiled while ignoring his wife’s sideways glare.   

The couple made their way down the hall, and on the left they saw the baby ward. Four rows of five beds filled with soft breathing pillows of pink and blue sat behind a glass window. Immediately picking out all the pink ones, Dot began to comb through each individual babys’ features. Merlin hoped their next child would be a boy.

Dot mumbled under her breath as her eyes went from one bundle to the next like a kid looking under the Christmas tree for the pretty package with her name on it.

“There she is,” Dot said in a sort of quiet wonder.

“Mmm?” Merlin stumbled out of his daze. “You find ‘er?”

“Yessireee! She’s right there,” Dot pointed. “The second row from the top, three spaces over. That’s her alright,” she smiled proudly.

“Now, Dot. How do you know that’s her? Our little girl.”

Dot turned abruptly to her husband, “You mean you don’t know?

Merlin looked at her wide-eyed.

“Merlin, she’s got those webbed toes just like yer Gram-maw Eula.”

Merlin looked again and sure enough, her toes were webbed just like a baby duckling.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Copyright, 2015. Kennedy LeJeune.

Prayers for Lafayette

Originally posted on A Walk on the Bright Side:

There are no words when something like this happens, especially when it happens so close to home. We live 15 minutes from Lafayette. My children attend school there. We go to this theater regularly. It is both devastating and frightening to our community. My mind simply cannot wrap itself around this senseless tragedy. 💔


View original

More Prayers

Originally posted on A Walk on the Bright Side:

It is with a heavy heart that I write this. One of the victims of the Lafayette shooting was from my hometown. Franklin is a small community of tight-knit families where everybody knows you. And if they don’t know you directly, they know your momma and daddy, your siblings and cousins, your Maw Maw and Paw Paw, and/or your nanny and parrain. I went to school with the same people my entire life, many of whom were more like my family than my classmates.

I never had the pleasure of meeting Mayci, but I grew up with many of her family members. They are wonderful people who are experiencing a devastating loss. I’m asking that you keep Mayci and her family in your prayers, as well as our little hometown. We’ve all been shaken to the core by a senseless tragedy, which has hit entirely too close to home.

View original 3 more words


Shame swallows you up,

it wells up inside you like

a tidal wave about to wash away

the soul camp at the edge of your heart.

Shame makes you back away

into a corner with your tail between your legs while

the attacker comes nearer, knife in hand-

and you feel the knife enter your flesh,

blood drips from your lips.

Shame pursues you with threatening

winds, lightning strikes at your heels,

and rain wetting the ground that

loosens the dirt beneath your feet.

Shame wears you out

and puts you to sleep

like a miscarried baby

that never saw the light of day.

June 18, 2015

The sunlight is peaking out through the blinds in my room while I sit on my bed and tap away on my keyboard. It is late afternoon, about forty minutes before I have to be at work, and I am enjoying the sounds outside. The birds are chirping, cars are zooming by, a train passes over the tracks, people are talking. This is how I am spending my summer.

I have read three and a half books already (the current one Beyond Magenta: Transgender Teens Speak Out is on the nightstand). Before that was Rubyfruit Jungle by Rita Mae Brown, Girl, Interrupted Susana Kaysen, and Delta of Venus by Anais Nin. I opted out of summer classes because I just need a break after the past semester, I really do. I have become a recluse between working and going to school, and now I am a recluse because I read all the time.

The significant other has been working, too. They are off on the weekends. But, Monday through Thursday I am alone all day until I have to work or until they get home. I do not mind being alone; in fact, I am using this time to sort out my own self. I am looking for purpose though people tell me that my purpose is to be in school. I feel that there is more I need to accomplish. SO tells me it is not time yet, and I must wait or else I will drive myself crazy. Because of this, I have stopped worrying so much in that area of my life. Yet, there is another area I am exploring.  The confusion comes from  how  I express my true self.

As you and I both know, I am transgender. For the past year, I dressed very masculine and stopped shaving. Now, I am becoming more comfortable with my feminine side while trying to express my masculinity, too. I shaved because I enjoy smooth skin, I wear jewelry because I like the way it looks, I wear loose blouses sometimes because I enjoy the silky feeling. Simultaneously, I wear baggy jeans and pants, sneakers, t-shirts, button-ups. Naturally, I am at a crossroads. What is happening? My inner self is not matching with my outer self. I think I may need to cut my hair, I think about getting a binder, and/or maybe some more loose blouses.

My inner self is a very feminine man like Michael Jackson or Robert Mapplethorpe while also wanting to be Marlon Brando.

Is it easier to see why I get confused?