Author's Notes

Like I've said in the past, sometimes I'll use my poetry as a way to start a dialogue with Kodi. It's a way for me to get the words out without actually having to speak them, and that was the case here.

At work, I'd spent the afternoon scanning documents into the database. It's pretty easy and doesn't require my complete focus, which gives me time to think. With all the connections I'd made that afternoon, all I wanted to do was write it down, which I wasn't able to do until after I got home from work. Once the poem was finished, I let Kodi read it, and then we talked for a while. She really liked the poem and even suggested that her family would appreciate reading it too, which I'm certainly okay with. I don't mind them knowing how I feel about them.

But what I was unsure about was admitting to Kodi that I didn't feel any differently after our handfasting. I just didn't know how to tell her that. And I felt guilty for waiting this long to tell her. On the day she told me that she felt different, I didn't say anything at all. I simply nodded my head, not really wanting to get into a discussion of my feelings in the doctor's office. And I didn't quite understand what Kodi meant when she used the word legitimate. For me, the word means to make legal, which in this country gay marriage isn't legal. I don't expect the meaning to change, until the laws do.

As Kodi and I talked, she explained that as far as her level of commitment goes, that didn't change for her either; she's still as committed to our relationship as she ever was. After she said that, I felt better. Then Kodi explained how she meant legitimate. The ceremony changed the significance of our relationship, meaning that we are no longer just girlfriends; we're wives now. It tells other people that we're in this relationship for the long haul. We're seriously committed to making it work, and we won't leave it on a whim.

After we talk, I always feel so much better. I just wish I could remember that fact when I have to tell her something that's hard for me to talk about. Sometimes it's hard to get past the fear of disappointing her. I know that is just the residue from my childhood, but that's an issue that I'm still working on.

I'd like to tell you more about Kodi's family. Compared to mine, her family is great. But please don't misunderstand me; these people are not her birth family. They are her chosen family. Two women took Kodi under their wings and adopted her as family in their hearts, when she was a teenager, and their families (both blood and chosen) came along with the package. As a chosen family, Kodi couldn't have done any better, and neither could I. They have accepted me for who and what I am, unlike my own birth family. They are totally amazing.

Kodi and I had planned to have our handfasting ceremony outside, in the backyard of one of her sister's homes. The weather had been beautiful the week of the ceremony. The night before, my Best Woman and I stayed at a motel. That morning, we had a leisurely breakfast, and then we went back to the motel to start getting ready. We took our time and tried to have a little fun, taking pictures every now and then for Kodi so that she could share my morning, even if she wasn't there. Once we were both dressed, I went into the bathroom and practiced reading my vows several times into the mirror.

However, it started to sprinkle as we left the motel. On the drive to the High Priestess's house, it was just pouring, and I knew there was no way we were having the ceremony outside. We arrived at the house, only to be told that we had to stay put for a while; they weren't quite ready for us. While all morning my mood had been pretty much a calm one, I learned after the ceremony that the mood in the house had been anything but.

Kodi and her family were scrambling to get the house ready for the ceremony. First, they tried to wait out the rain. Then they had the guys try to put up a tarp in the backyard over the ritual circle, but the rain just wouldn't let up. Finally, Kodi, thinking about the ankle I had sprained three months ago, made an executive decision to bring the ceremony inside, which meant everything had to be brought upstairs from the basement, where we'd left it from the rehearsal the night before. While Kodi brought up all the altar tables and related items, the rest of her family moved furniture and got the living room ready.

Once my Best Woman and I were finally allowed into the house, I was blown away by how absolutely beautiful everything was. There were lit candles everywhere, a nice fire in the fireplace, and the things they couldn't move out of the living room were covered with tablecloths and the extra napkins in our colors of purple and green.

I was so awed that Kodi's family pulled together and helped her so much and so quickly to make our ceremony so beautiful and so lovely. There was no way I could regret being forced to have the ceremony inside, after seeing all the work they did for Kodi and me, for us. There's no way in hell my family would have ever done anything like that for me, for us, never. That's why they weren't even invited to the ceremony. And that's why I'm so totally blown away by my new family. To me, they truly know the meaning of the word family, and they know how to love unconditionally.

This is my new family:

      

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