I moved to the US 31 years ago today to live with Kelley. We were in a tiny apartment in Duluth, Georgia—in Gwinnett County, a very red county in a very red state. I had no money, no job, no health insurance, and I was sick. We were very isolated: twenty miles from Atlanta with no public transport, not even any sidewalks. But we had what we needed: heat, light, food, and each other. In many ways it felt like living today in the middle of this pandemic. I haven’t been to a restaurant for nearly 10 months. I haven’t had a hug from anyone but Kelley—and the kitties—for almost as long. We don’t have much in the way of accessible public transport out here and there are no sidewalks.
But, oh, so much else is different. We have enough money for the things we need. We have friends and family out there just waiting, like us, for the time when we can throw away our masks, hold out our arms, and hug and laugh and eat together once again. Meanwhile, we have a whole house that’s ours (and, y’know, the bank’s), a car each, two fuzzy kitties, plenty of delicious food, even better drinks, all the TV and books we could possibly need and, of course, each other.
We had to fight hard to be together—at the time it was illegal for queers, communists, and HIV+ people to even enter the US, never mind stay for any length of time. I refused to pretend to be anything but queer, so my immigration case took four years, cost more than $20,000, and made new law. After that mammoth stress the pandemic feels easy; there is nothing, absolutely nothing that could rock our foundations. Kelley is the heart of my life, the axis around which everything else revolves.
Here’s a photo of her I took in her office last month. It’s not carefully posed, the light’s all in the wrong place, and, even so, she’s more herself and so more beautiful now than she was when we met. The best person in the universe to be locked down with. I am profoundly grateful every single day.
Kelley at 60
Nicola Griffith 
Thank you. Yes, this is what people who are genuinely lucky have in common: lucky to be with people they enjoy.
Congratulations on the success of your precedent-setting immigration case, and on being with Kelley, who must be as lovely a person as she looks (no sexism or impropriety intended). I’m delighted for you both and wish you a long and happy life together!
I am planning to tour the US when all this is over. You are so much people we want to see.
Farah
Ah yes, I just read this filling in some blanks for us. Like 40 years, 4 kids & their spouses that we cant hug, 4 grandkids with special events that will go remote – read 1 highschool graduation, 1 college graduation. a dog not a cat. And each other, married for 8 years (at last). And just sent out our annual letter stating that we are so dang blessed to be each others best company. Heres to you guys, a virtual hug, and a wish that 2021 is a better year. And by the way no sidewalks, woods, meadows and coyotes!
As luck would have it si they say.
________________________________
@efjames: It would be lovely to see you both! I’ll look forward to it.
@joy: We have o sidewalks, coyotes, a ravine, eagles, hawks, and raccoons. And I truly believe 2021 will be a better year—and I can’t wait!
Nicola, Nicola I have loved you and Kelly ever since I met you two girls online and in your writing. I think of you as “girls” because I am 75 going on to 200 years old.
Thank you for sharing this. I’m sorry you had such a hellish time getting into this country. There are moments when I wonder if it’s worth it, particularly during the past four years even though I’ve had it much easier than some of my nearest and dearest. (wry grin) I’m glad you have all of these things during lockdown. Thank you for sharing this with us.
Thanks for reminding me what is really important.