Babies.

I was lying in bed this morning, the duvet hunched up over my shoulders, crying as I read a book. Suddenly I get a familiar sensation, an urge, a desire that is as primeval as it is elemental. I called out: "Let's have a baby!"

Şencan is playing Alpha Centurai in her study. She says: "Yeah, okay."

This role reversal is typical of our relationship. She is the provider, I am the home keeper. The gender stereotypes have been ripped up and reassigned between us at random. Only when together are we complete. At least, I am only complete when with her. Şencan is like an island, and one on which I am marooned for life.

I love her. I want to marry her; I will be marrying her in three months.

I want to have kid(s). One or multiple, whatever fate and our combined genetics can hand us. I want her parents to have a grandchild sitting on their laps. I want kids who can are multilingual, who feel perfectly at home speaking Turkish or English. Kids who have their mother's looks and their mother's brains. Who I can pun endlessly to, who will fascinate me as they travel through their lives with us.

Yet if it does not happen, if fate prevents us from continuing our lines, then it will not matter. For we will be together. We shall spoil our nephews and nieces rotten. We shall grow old disgracefully. We shall be happy.