i left piles, made messes, but always closed the blinds.
i ran errands, a few miles, and the air conditioner plenty.
i spoke softly, around noon, to the first person i saw each day.
sometimes the mailman or a phone call, once accidentally at the morning news.
you would have laughed, too,
at me and the faux pas.
i stayed up later, unsure, of the creaks and the whir of the fan.
the sound machine sounds different from your side of the bed.
i watched t.v. – too much – seasons and seasons of a latest addiction.
i cried for fictional texas strangers & jumped at the neighbor’s bike starting.
i took out the recycling.
i walked alone.
i was mostly fine, with just enough time, to think myself under a rock.
especially at night,
when the stillness settled thick,
i wondered myself to sleep.
where were you?
what time was it?
were you comfortable and at peace?
what new vistas would change the way you see while i sleep?
as i checked the lock or shopped for one,
i couldn’t help but smile . . .
for the minute by minute truths your awayness brought home:
how much i am me,
home is home,
and this life is as sweet as it is,
because you’re mine.
posted in anticipation of a late night airport pick up after 2 weeks away.