by Molly McAllister
I am one of the fortunate ones.
Nearly 3 years after I married my high school sweetheart, I realized I was gay. Driving down a Bainbridge road in my dad’s yellow Cadillac, I broached the subject tentatively.
Dad : “Yes, honey?”
Me: “I have a crush.”
Dad: “Oh, honey, what’s his name?”
[Heavy pause. My dad’s hand instinctively goes to my knee.]
Dad: “Oh, sweetheart, what’s her name?”
[Deep sigh - Deep relief]
Like I said, I am one of the lucky ones. I had instant love and support from my family when I realized that I was (and am) gay. After the champagne cork of my sexuality unhinged itself, I met the woman of my dreams – the tall and talented April. Nine years later, I am so proud to say that we share a lovely and oh-so-gregarious daughter, Ms. Harper, and have a boy on the way. We are a family, a loving and happy family, and I couldn’t feel more fortunate.
About 5 years ago, April and I had a beautiful ceremony on the shores of Lake Union. We exchanged rings, and wept as my sister and brother-in-law took us through our vows in front of over 200 guests. Minute by minute, it was the best day of my life. Aside from our daughter’s birth, I think I can say that my beautiful wife feels the same.
But wife? She’s not really that, is she? Not in the eyes of the law, at least.
And that breaks my heart. She is my wife, and so much more. She is my heart. My love. My big ol’ four-leaf clover. My reason for waking up, and crawling back into bed at night. Always. In sickness and in health until death do us part, you know? I always said that April was like the icing on my little cake of life. And that’s exactly how marriage feels to me. It would feel awfully good to be married to the love of my life, to be seen as equal in the eyes of the law, and to call her “my wife.”
I can’t imagine a better way to say to the world, ‘Hey, we love each other!’ than getting hitched. Let’s hope that, someday, we can.