Delayed Flight
I hear you packing in the walk-in closet. Your overhead with its leather inlays and mustard canvass with your essentials, a matching suit bag, anniversary gifts from an adoring wife. These are things which engender mixed feelings; I love you and can only barely bear you being away from me, and I am inordinately proud of and grateful to a man who can take care of us so well. Your travel is essential to this life but I hate it, I hate it almost as much as I love you. This time, it is all the more difficult for me because I have this deep, primal yearning for you, unsatisfied last night because of your work. You came to bed so late. What was it? Two? Three? I listened to you arguing, convincing, disputing, for …