FAMILY SECRET: CLAIMING MY FATHER'S TOY
The vows are the ones we wrote together at the kitchen table on a Sunday morning with coffee and the Eiffel Tower in the window, simple and specific and entirely ours, and when it is my turn, I look at Vincent and say them without looking down at the paper because I know them by heart because I wrote them from the heart and there is no distance between those two things.
"I choose you," I say. "Not from proximity and not from need and not because I don't know any other way. I choose you because I know exactly what I'm choosing and I want it completely. I choose the man who tells me ugly true things and waits when I need waiting and moves fast when moving matters. I choose the room we built to