Page 209 - Dark Matter Women Witnessing

I prepare myself before getting into bed: no I won't hear the door creak as you nudge it

open, no you won't circle the bed while I wait, knowing you're down there biding your

time, I won't feel that little bounce as you mount the bed at last, hear the purr that

begins the instant you land, feel you padding towards me on the quilt, purring louder as

you approach. I won't reach out to where I know you are, just about even with my waist,

let my hand fall on you, then stroke you as you push your head through my hand, over

and over, until you've had enough and make your way back to the foot of the bed,

discreetly, where as you mark out your nest then lower yourself down into it your purr

subsides and we both drop gently into sleep.

I keep trying to get to the new life the one you've made possible by leaving, so far

nothing compensates, I try and add up the advantages but they don't amount to a hill of

beans. I'd give anything to be vacuuming twice a week, running the lintbrush over the

chairs, the couch, the blankets, riding my bike home from the pet store with my

knapsack full of cans, all the shopping cleaning and worrying and you know it was all a

pleasure because it was all for you my dear.

Not political this time, not global. So small you didn’t even weigh eight pounds.

Not that I was abandoned, not that I was hurt, not that I was accused. Not that I failed.

No rewriting of our history, no sudden stabbing memories of hate, or love. No anger, no

indignation.

No trace of relief. No up side. No perks. What did you ever get in the way of, nothing

that I can think of, you were always there but never in the way never demanding your

needs so simple to gratify.