It’s like I can touch her and then she’s gone. There is interference. Static. Someone else’s needs arise, whether at work or at home, a student or child. Even the dogs have needs, the cat, too (don’t be fooled by the nonchalance).
But she is there, intermittently embodied. I want her for more than a moment, more than a fragmented thought. How am I to reach her given the demands of the external and the limits of her functionality?
This is how. You must find her in language. If she asks to write to you, if she writes to you, take it as a gift. You are getting the most of her. More than a conversation, more than her body. Let her write to you.
I use creative non-fiction, autobiographical fiction, and poetry to communicate, connect, and understand.