Coordinates

You ask me where I am
so often now

That sometimes
I feel less like a woman
and more like a delicate thing
you are trying to keep hidden from the world

Tucked away somewhere safe

Somewhere unseen

Home
In bed
Under blankets
Inside the quiet corners of a life
you can still imagine reaching

And every time I say
I just got home

there is relief in you

Good
Stay home and relax

As though the world itself
becomes less threatening
once I am behind a locked door

But what amuses me
is that you ask these questions
as though I do not have a life
moving constantly beyond your line of sight

I work
I drive
I disappear into errands
traffic
noise
whole afternoons that belong only to me

And still
you keep searching for me

Did you eat
What did you eat
Did your trainer come today
Did you train
Did you go to the gym anyway
Are you working tomorrow
What are you doing now

And I laugh sometimes
because surely
this cannot possibly be normal
for two adults our age

At this point
my whereabouts are documented
with the precision
of a classified investigation

And the absurd thing is

you ask everything
with such unbearable tenderness
that I cannot even become annoyed properly

Because beneath the questions
there is no control

Only care

Care disguised as curiosity
Concern disguised as conversation
Longing disguised as routine

You do not ask
because you need information

You ask because somewhere along the way
my ordinary existence
started mattering to you

And perhaps that is why
you become restless
when I disappear too long

Why relief enters your voice
when I answer

Why you always sound calmer
once you know
I am somewhere soft and reachable

Meanwhile
I stand in the middle of my very busy life
holding my ringing phone
wondering how something so tender

can also be
so exhausting