I am finding it rather ironic that I am pulling my bra out of the same dresser drawers as I did long ago when the house was empty and I first explored my sexuality and my desire to be a woman. Long ago, I inherited my mother's dresser on her passing. This morning I stood before the very same mirror, above the dresser's marble top, that I did when I first secretly put on her bra. It's comforting no longer having to open her drawers when the house is silent. Her drawers are now mine and filled with all the same things. They are now my panties and my bras.