Our gay marriage looks so familiar

Almost three years ago, my wife and I got married on a bright sunny Iowa afternoon in her parents’ backyard. Relatives had come from New York and Florida, clusters of friends caravanned from Chicago; one pal flew in from Brussels, a young friend, Rafa, called from Moscow to congratulate us.

Since then, we’ve celebrated anniversaries, bought a car together, sifted through health-care options, visited family, had a son. This is the thing about same-sex marriages and the families they create: we’re remarkably like every other kind of marriage, like every other kind of family.

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