The weight of one word rests on their shoulders

Our planning has begun in earnest. My fiancée and I are deciding among available Saturdays in summer 2006.

I am fascinated by even numbers and notice that one Saturday falls on the 12th, my favorite of all numbers. August seems rather late, though.

Keeping in mind a few workable dates, we move on to location. The stunning Bozarth mansion happens to be across the street from my apartment. We do a bit of research and discover the mansion and its grounds are available for all types of events at $1,500 a day.

All types of events. My sweetie pauses and asks quietly, “What do you want to call this?” It was several moments before I could answer and even then all I managed was a lame, “I don’t know.”

Since our engagement, I have spoken to friends and family about our ceremony. I deliberately omit the word commitment before ceremony. I’m a romantic, you see, who has grown up imagining the great fun I will have on the day I get married. In my mind, the afternoon is splashed with sun and enveloped with a downright peacefulness. Commitment ceremony is a term the GLBT community has adopted, yet I have shied away from using it, feeling that commitment is a watered down version of my dreams. Dreams that took more than a decade to believe in.

There were many long years in my 20s when I settled into the fact that I would never get married. For all its progressiveness and acceptance, the America I lived in would not allow me to wish for anything so formal.

I learned that some gay couples made their private exchanging of rings the extent of their celebration. Others planned commitment ceremonies and invited small groups of friends to the event. Still others did nothing until 10 or 15 years into their life together, when they finally felt accepted enough to celebrate with an anniversary party.

With age has come security, and I am less scared now than I’ve ever been about what the world thinks of me. But still, what of my choice to say only ceremony?

When my fiancée and I stood face-to-face with her question hanging unanswered, the obvious word felt weighted and unspeakable. For months I have chosen to say ceremony out of respect for my family and friends. They are still unaccustomed, I thought, to hearing that a gay couple will have any sort of event marking their togetherness.

Heck, even some of our lesbian friends showed obvious surprise when we announced our engagement. They either avoided the question altogether or stumbled over, “So, you’re really going to have a ceremony?”

It took a day of mulling until the answer came to me quietly and forcefully. The pivotal step in a marriage we are not allowed to do – we cannot apply for a marriage license. However, to honor our love, we can follow the other traditions of the culture that raised us.

We will sample foods and peruse the playlists of DJs. We will design our invitations and excitedly wait for family to step off the plane at Spokane International Airport. We will walk down the aisle, dance the first dance, listen to our best friends propose a toast.

To honor us, we will have a wedding.