Our 17th Anniversary

I didn't remember it until that very evening, during dinner with friends. And I forgot to tell Rob until the next morning, on our way to the park for David's bike-riding lesson: "You know, yesterday was our 17th."
The date had just blurred by, like an oncoming car you don't notice until it's in your rear-view mirror. Still, our 17 years are a triumph: We've defied not only the usual stresses that shipwreck many a relationship whether gay or straight, but also the homophobia of George Bush and his zealous friends.
So now, although I'm a few days late, I stop and remember: our first night together at my place in Berkeley; trips to Malaysia, Singapore, Japan, France, Italy, Amsterdam, Costa Rica, and, of course, Guatemala; a few years in Palo Alto before moving to this magical city; Lucy, our ever-affectionate golden retriever; an elegant and festive wedding; weekends in Bolinas; the "queen-ification" of two lovely homes; jobs that only occasionally make us crazy; good health; gourmet dinners at home and about town; Rob's annual recital; Richard's occasional sermon; nights dancing into the wee hours; lots of hugs, wonderful smiles, a few tears, lots of forgiveness back and forth. And wonderful friends and family. Yes.
And, as if life couldn't possibly get any better, we have David, this beautiful son of ours, full of breakfast and plenty of mischief.
So much to savor. This year, we're celebrating it all a couple of weeks late. But next year, we'll be on time. I'll make sure.