Tuesday, June 30, 2009

The politics of love

I'm getting married when I'm bigger, right, Mama?

"I don't know, love. Do you want to get married?"

Yes, I want to.

"Okay, sweetie."

Mama?
She hesitated. Mama, can I marry a girl?

That stopped me. "Why do you ask?"

Because.

How do I answer that? Is that 'can I' like 'is it possible' or 'can I' like 'Mama, is it okay with you?' How much is she asking? I think: well, your Daddy and I would be fine with that; and: but some other relatives might struggle with it; and: but screw them. I think: in fifteen more years? That might actually be legal. And: but maybe not, or maybe not everywhere. I think: our rabbi would personally recognize your marriage, but our synagogue and religion wouldn't. I think: I love you, and I want you to be happy. I hope whatever the things are you'll want in life, they'll be available to you.

I answer: "Well, I think the most important thing is that you marry someone you love very, very much, and who loves you just as much. If you're in love with a girl, I think you can marry her."

Mama. I want to marry a girl. I want to marry you.

Oh. Ohhhh. I missed that one, didn't I? "Sweet girl, I'm already married to Daddy." I might not believe marriage = 1 man + 1 woman, but I do emphatically believe marriage = only 1 spouse at a time.

She pouts. But I want to marry YOU!!!

"Okay, sweet girl. Here's the deal. You can't marry anybody until you're 18 so we can talk about it some more then, okay?"

Okay, Mama.

"Let's get you in bed, okay?"

She climbed in bed and I climbed in too, to snuggle her. Sleepily, she mumbled to me. I really, really love you, Mama. She fell asleep hugging my wrist. Pin It