Absent Flowers Abounding

Absences
Donald Justice

It's snowing this afternoon and there are no flowers.
There is only this sound of falling, quiet and remote,
Like the memory of scales descending the white keys
Of a childhood piano--outside the window, palms!
And the heavy head of the cereus, inclining,
Soon to let down its white or yellow-white.

Now, only these poor snow-flowers in a heap,
Like the memory of a white dress cast down . . .
So much has fallen.

                             And I, who have listened for a step

All afternoon, hear it now, but already falling away,

Already in memory. And the terrible scales descending

On the silent piano; the snow; and the absent flowers

     abounding.

We've taken a step backwards to step forward. I think?

Drew has been sleeping over more and more often, to the point at which it's almost assumed he'll sleep at the house instead of at the room he's renting a few blocks away.

And it's confusing. Because it's nice to have him around as a father, to have him take care of our infant in the middle of the night, to have our toddler come in at morning and see daddy and mommy in bed together. And it's nice to have him around as a partner, because then he can be there for me - to hold me when I cry, to listen when I have a nightmare, to answer my questions, to apologize.

But something has been bothering me, and I think I've finally put my finger on what - it's like we're slipping into being back together, instead of deciding to be together. Neither of us is having to be vulnerable - I'm not asking him to move back in, he's not asking to. But, incrementally, he has been.

In MC yesterday, we began talking about this. And I had to face how there's a real part of me that wants Drew to move back in, but there's another part that's terrified that he's taking rejoining my family for granted. Also, I can't ask Drew to move back in without feeling like a doormat; I want him to beg to come back, to have it be something he works toward and earns, to be something I grant.

Meanwhile, he's not sure he wants to move back in - which, in my sensitive state, feels like a rejection, or at least an invitation to the pick me dance. In our conversation yesterday, Drew said he could see a lot of pros and cons, but he wanted to talk with his therapist about it before attempting to explain why he isn't desperate to move back in.

As I refuse to play the pick-me game, we're trying a new tack. The new default is that he sleeps at his place, every night. And we can use the geographic, temporal, and mental space to figure out what we want.

I think this is right for the long run. But I'm now left listening for the step that isn't there, feeling the absences abounding.