Interlude

Well, that’s that. You’re off on another adventure. And the next time we see each other, the moment will be upon us.

As in THE moment.

The moment when the truth slips from my tongue and hopefully finds your ears willing to accept it. When I let you glimpse the sun reflecting brightly off of the rushing river that is my love for you.

Just a glimpse, though. I’m afraid if I tried to take you down it, even in the most comfortable craft I can find, it would be too much for you. I can guide you, but you’re the one that has to make the choice to be submerged.

I still wonder if that’s the best way to do it. “I am truly and deeply in love with you” feels like it would be too strong, like throwing you into the river and asking you to swim. “You are the most amazing person I have ever met and I count myself lucky any day I get to be around you or talk to you” seems like it would be fine.

But how would you respond to “just fine”? Maybe I need to be more direct.

I think I feel you push and pull. Lately your communication has been more….communal. Almost like you are reaching for safety, ducking underneath the tent before the clouds above conspire to create the rain that would fall on your very well put together life.

You don’t include me as much as you could, and yet you still include me more than you would if I truly meant nothing to you. Do you even realize? Or is this your way of recalculating, taking a step back to survey the board to make sure you have the pieces in place for both protection and attack?

Regardless, it tears at me on the inside. I’m probably too sensitive to it. This has been such a busy summer for you, and there have been times when it felt like you wanted me right next to you.

So as I sit in this desert between moments, this purgatory in which I can’t tell if I’m falling away from you or just momentarily suspended, I remember what it was like that one day.

They were away, and you were on your own to manage. It’s something that happens frequently but I still can’t tell if it bothers you. And in that moment of unlimited space, where you had to simultaneously endure the challenge and enjoy your break, you reached for me.

You showed me what you saw. You brought me into your thoughts. You bounced things off of me while also making me feel important. I can’t be the only one available for you in times like that. Surely not, knowing you. I have to think there’s a reason you still do.

They returned. Whole again. And again, I moved into the periphery. You still found ways to bring me in, if only for brief moments.

And I still wonder, what is this dance? At times it feels on purpose, the steps and moves calculated like some sort of spiritual lambada. Others, it seems like the natural flow of your mind, as if you are a bird migrating and I’m the nice big tree by the pond you recall exists when the moment feels right. There when needed, proud to stand tall and provide for you, but left standing still when you must continue the journey.

I seek to let you know I don’t have to be a tree. You can let me in on the dance. I can exist in subtle ways if it means getting more of you when the time is right.

The hope is that a simple message arrives subliminally when the moment comes that I say to you what I have been wanting to say for years now: I can be more, if you want.

Suspended in time,
On the Left