We are a Family

Moira

Taking a walk after dinner, the kids up
ahead on bikes, I want to hold her hand,
to reach up her neck with a kiss. I wait
till we get to the alcove near the pony,
and there while the children collect fal-
len apples and clover and other favorite
pony delights I look for that familiar
sparkle, the one that keeps me going
through the longest of days. I love her as
she gathers me up and steals a kiss, as I
feel her body warm and strong against
mine. Moments like this I forget that we
are different, that it is unusual for two
women to love each other, to raise a
family together. I see her as my mate in
every sense of the word, and it feels nat-
ural.

I didn’t know what it would be like for
my children, having my lover move in
with us. She and I spent many long
hours discussing the how’s, the time it
would require for everyone to adjust.
But when they all fell in love with her
just as easily as I, we weren’t all that
surprised. Here we are now, finding
what was once a lost band is now a fam-
ily. This is the best we have been togeth-
er, the most love flowing between us all,
ever.

We laugh when our littlest son climbs
into our bed and wedges into the warm
place between us, calling us his “two
mommies”. So easily he has shown his
love and affection. I see that without the
world’s prejudices, he loves us as purely
as he feels our love for each other. This
is not always true with our oldest son,
entering those confusing teenage years.
He is, at times, uncomfortably aware
that his house is different, and must face
the age old question, is different OK?
But as a family we debate, argue, cry,
and laugh along side of each other.

They were all out there together, my lov-
er with the kite string in hand, the flying
shark soaring, all three children with

their heads held back, eyes toward the
heavens. Maybe the world needs to see
our love, to see us so natural, to see us as
a family. I reach to hold her hand. She
doesn’t pull away, but I feel tension as
we walk past a couple and their children.
We are functioning under an optimistic
umbrella that seems to protect. It is stag-
gering to me that so much of what I take
for granted, such as loving this woman,
is not accepted. Even our daughter can’t
fathom why we’re not able to marry.
“But you love each other,” she says. In
her mind that’s good enough. In her
heart that’s good enough.

Like so many of the issues faceing les-
bains and gays, being a family brings
you right up against the fears of the com-
mon mind. I hear how damaging it will
be for the children. I hear how confusing
it will be for them. Never mind that they
love her as much as I do, never mind that
when we return from our weekend away
it’s her they run to,. never mind they
don’t want me anywhere near the laun-
dry room anymore, having put up with
years of grey clothes, they love her
bright wash. That’s the good part, that all
in one moment, in a real moment, years
of grey can be washed out. I feel that and
the children can feel that. We are all
drawn together by this love. Quite inter-
esting how that happens when you create
a space like we have.

Living as a lesbian couple in Northern
Vermont carries its own set of problems
and concerns, some shared by all fam-
ilies, some unique. My partner and I are
committed not because we have to be,
not by blood ties, but by love, by our
shared love for our family. As the au-
tumn nights grow cooler, we look for-
ward to nights around the fireplace, the
weekends spent winterizing and throw-
ing the football around. We are up
against much prejudice. I move my
hands around our bodies, asking for light
to protect us in these dark times, for

November 199]

energy to shield us from the cloudy
thoughts. But as we sit around the supper
table I feel the strength, in our per-
severance, in our right to be who we are,
in the love that grows like a web be-
tween us all. It takes doing it, it takes liv-
ing it, to expose the old ways of think-
ing, the old fears. We are a family.

Moira and Mary Jean were wed in a pri-
vate ceremony October I2, 1991 in
Maine.

 

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