Mike(y), Bear and me
By Elizabeth Argall
Biography
It feels very strange to bed down separately to my loved one; sharing the same roof, but him on the couch, me upstairs. It’s not as bad as you might assume. We sleep separately tonight because he fell asleep on the couch and was too tired to move.
I was tempted to bed down on the other couch, but decided that was silly. So instead I journey upstairs to sleep apart. It’s a lonely feeling, an absence palpable, different. It is different to a mild pining when he is working on the computer late, while I take myself to bed. At least then I know he will come to me when he is done and I know that he is a waking consciousness about the house. Tonight he lies peacefully inert; his mind is not in this place for my longing thoughts to reach out to.
I pad down stairs to collect bear. I fear a lonely night and I need something to hold. Mike(y) awakes to my naked form and smiles. I tell him I have come to take bear to bed with me, he says he will not be far behind.
I put myself to bed with more levity than before and write with all speed. I must capture this moment to page before my love climbs up the stairs and we curl close to sleep.
His timing is exemplary. I finish these words and he is here.
February 2003