Ava sat at her desk, gazing at the open calendar on her computer. Between her pastoral responsibilities and the whirlwind of planning meetings for the church’s new senior living facility, she rarely made time for herself. Tonight, however, was different. She’d circled the date weeks ago, committing to an evening that wasn’t about serving others but about stepping into her authentic self—a playtime of sorts, a chance to explore life as Ava beyond the confines of her home.
Her first step was deciding where to go. Miami’s bustling energy provided plenty of options, but Ava needed a space where courage and curiosity could coexist without fear overwhelming her. She scrolled through the website of a local LGBTQ+ community center. They were hosting a casual game night, a low-pressure event designed to create a safe and welcoming environment for people like her. It wasn’t just about games; it was about connection, about letting Ava breathe in a room where she didn’t have to explain herself.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Ava carefully chose her outfit—a flowing floral blouse paired with jeans that hugged her just right. She spent extra time on her makeup, blending soft earth tones and adding a touch of pink to her lips. She admired herself in the mirror before heading out. This was her—not the person she presented during church services or community meetings, but Ava in her purest form.
The community center wasn’t far away, nestled in a quiet part of the city. As she parked and walked toward the entrance, her pulse quickened. The thought of being seen, truly seen, filled her with equal parts excitement and dread. She reminded herself why she was here: This is for me. I’m allowed to have this.
Inside, the room buzzed with friendly chatter. A mix of people, some dressed as vibrantly as a summer garden and others as casually as a Saturday morning, gathered around tables stacked with board games. A volunteer greeted her warmly, showed her where to grab snacks, and pointed out a table where a game of Uno was just starting.
Ava settled at the table, her anxiety subsiding as the game kicked off. Laughter erupted as someone threw down a brutal Draw Four card. For the first time in weeks, she experienced a sense of relief, as if the burdens of life had been lifted. In this moment, she was neither a pastor nor a project planner; she was just Ava, a woman savoring a night of fun fun.
Halfway through the evening, Ava felt the familiar urge to use the restroom. The venue had two single-use restrooms marked simply “All-Gender,” but the idea of crossing the room still made her pause. After years of overthinking these situations, her mind often racing with worst-case scenarios, she resolved to trust tonight, surrounded by those who understood her herself.
She left the table, strode purposefully to the restroom, and shut the door behind her. It was a routine action, one she had performed numerous times at home, yet in this setting, it felt significant. Upon returning to her chair, no one turned to look at her. This absence of observation—the liberty to be without judgment—served as a unique form of validation.
As the night wound down, Ava stayed to help clean up, chatting with the volunteers about upcoming events. They invited her to a poetry reading the following month, and she promised to attend. The drive home was filled with the quiet satisfaction of a day well spent. The streets of Miami glittered with possibility, each light reflecting her growing aspirations confidence.
Ava understood this wasn’t the conclusion of her journey. There would be other nights, different spaces to explore, and additional hurdles to face. But tonight, she had tipped the scale. Courage and curiosity had triumphed, and Ava had engaged—not just with games but with life itself. And that was the greatest victory of all.
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