We went to get our marriage license yesterday. Manually filling out a paper form when your name is just as long as the alphabet requires a sill set that takes a few tries to master. We weren’t the only ones told to try again. We joined others at the back of the line while we tried our best to squeeze 30+ letters on a single line. We bonded with the other bad writers as we confessed how we messed up the form, and planned how to better the whole process.

There were older people there. Gays. Blacks. Whites. Heteros. Asians. It felt good to be in a space where everyone was there for the same reason. We were all planning to join our lives with another person. In today’s world, it was comforting to know that love was still present.

While we were waiting, the Supreme Court ruling about LGBTQ employment protections passed. More goodness.

We got the form right. Paid for the cashier for the license, and came back to receive a form that was the heaviest form I’ve ever held. It had our names on it together with a legal embossed stamp. While I’ve written our names together many times before, the meaning of them being on a document together made the paper a heavyweight.

It’s happening y’all.