Mom

My mother called me this afternoon. That's nothing new, we talk several times a week on the phone.  For the last several months our conversations have been mostly about politics.  We're on the same side of issues so our chats were never heated, except when we were both upset about something the "other side" had said or done. Or we'd both seen Elizabeth on The View.

Today, she asked me how I was doing using her I-love-you-and-I'm-very-concerned voice.

"I'm fine," I said.

"I'm so, so sorry."

I wasn't following.

She was referring to the contests: Prop 8, Florida, Arizona, Arkansas.   "It's horrible," she said. "I just don't understand."

When I first told my mother that my partner and I were no longer attending weddings as a form of protest, she said "okay but couldn't you just send your regrets without getting into the reason."   She didn't want to offend anyone.  

Today she was speaking in a very different way. How, she wondered, could someone vote for Obama and then also vote for hate? Did they not understand the message of CHANGE?

I had no answer for her.

Before we hung up, her voice began to crack. "I want you to know something. As far as I'm concerned you and Marcus are married. I pray someday the country will recognize that. I'm so proud of you."

I'm proud of you too Ma, I wanted to say. But the words didn't come.