Six months ago today I united with my soul mate, the one everyone would say is so wrong for me—if they knew the truth. We can’t help whom we fall in love with, and even if I could, I wouldn’t change a thing about my love for Donovan. Now I stand in a long line of students, a few steps away from being handed my Associates Degree in Baking and Pastry Arts. The thought of staying on and earning my bachelor’s degree has scarily crossed my mind. Possibly I am foolish, as my decision was not lead by lack of either financial resources or time. The only things that drive me now are my passion for life, the desire to open my own bakery, and the one person who sits in the crowd before me, cheering me on. I step up to the platform, my feet slightly quivering in anticipation. It appears that this will take about twelve steps; three steps up, three to get the diploma, three more off the stage, then three down the stairs. Twelve steps, just like a rehab program, then I am free. “David Herbert Barker,”
