not quite poetry

I've been single for so long. Haven't had a boyfriend since the summer of '99. But the last two and a half months I've had Michael every day. Only a handful of nights were we not asleep at each other's side. In and out of moods and stress-levels and we haven't detected the slightest disatisfaction with each other. In fact, we make each other laugh constantly. Turn each other on. Joy at waking up together day after day.

But I was single for so long that you'd think it would take me time to get used to having him with me all the time. The truth is, his presence seemed like a fantasy, and now that he's left, part of me feels this retisence that, "of course I'm alone again." I'm sure this distance will drive it home even further how much I love him.

So we're separated by miles of Heartland and the Appalachian Mountain Range now, and the future is frightening, because it's so big, and we're adults making descisions that matter. We're not kids making selfish descisions that only hurts ourselves. Or selfish descisions because we don't give a shit about anyone else. Or because we think we could die tonight.

Sometimes I catch him looking at me with his eyes wide as though he's about to start crying or laughing and then he just shakes his head and says, "I got overwhelmed for a second there; I'm so in love with you." He left with me his most valuable material possesion - his Citadel ring - which provides for me very basic comfort:

the knowledge that I will hear from him again.

How silly that I'm the most worried about the very basics. I just don't want him to disappear. Remember how easily Kasey fell silent? I really am most worried about low-level commitment, and friendship.

But that worry is just typical me being prepared for my dreams to vanish. In reality I have no fear of Mike vanishing. He's so present.

Our parting was soft as we floated through the morning and tried to wake up. Morning light diffused through the heavy pre-dawn thunderstorm which lingered slightly. Coffee... general conversation... then a fairly quick series of kisses and I-love-yous while ignoring eachother's teary eyes.

"I'll be back shortly," he said.

He's also said other things. About his decision to work towards marrying me. Preparing a place for me, if you will. The Citadel ring bears signifigance in ways I would not have understood if I didn't know him the way I do. So I don't expect any of you to really understand, just know it means the world. And I accept all these things, and with that also return his affection.

I have been single for so long that I understand what things satisfy me. Mike satisfies me. From my desire to laugh and cuddle to my passion for raising a family, he satisfies me.

But this is where we are now, and this is good. This is hard. I miss his presence. But I don't feel distant from him.

And I sense in my gut (my spirit) that our seeming incompatibility of the Jesus-nature is only a matter of time. I do believe in an interventionist God, and I believe I was introduced into Mike's life at a critical point but that the process is only partially complete. This love I feel for him is too great for me to question it, though, and instead I thank God for it.

The summer will be quick. In August he gets to meet my mother! He's beginning something he's looked forward to, in a town he's missed. I'm starting research. We're moving forward, and by forward closer together, despite temporarily being apart.

And since "together" is the opposite of "alone" and not "apart" then it is possible to be "together" and "apart" at the same time.

Modest Mouse is coming to Bloomington, IN in July.