Home is where the Hearth is?

My partner left home two months ago. And I know not when he will return. When I might next see him sitting on the couch watching grossly graphic medical programs on TV, while the dog fights his Macbook Air for real-estate on his lap. Filling up any available storage space in the bathroom with ever more exotically scented products from The Body Shop. Wafting the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee through the house each morning while getting me used to the privilege of having tea magically appear bed-side everyday. Engulfing me in his warm embrace every night. The hearth to complete our home.

He left because the system made it untenable to live at home with dignity. Climbing up Maslow's ladder of needs - physiological well-being, financial security, love, self-esteem and self-actualization - is an impossibly slippery task if you're an immigrant in the US looking to establish a career in an H1B-poor profession and if you happen to love someone of the same sex*. To have a loved one attempt the climb under those circumstances is to bear witness to the following.

To see him forced to stop working in the field he loves - and because of that, in this country have his access to healthcare severely restricted. To see him battle dozens of small everyday humiliations; small enough to be invisible to others but sharp enough to shred self-esteem. Like being unable to drive legally, in a country hostile to public transport and therefore becoming dependent on others for many of your transportation needs. Or having to hear care-less (hyphen intended), spiteful remarks made within hearing range by thoughtless acquaintances. To hear him describe what his self-actualized life would look like and then watch him chafe daily at not being allowed to start on that journey. To find yourself powerless to pull your partner onto firm immigration ground based on your own immigration/citizenship status to ensure his or her continued loving presence in your home*. To feel him silently, unhappily count down the days to his departure but know that he was already gone. To watch your home turn into a house.

I know what must happen now. But moving on, when you stayed put, is difficult. Surrounded by missing Minis and un-adopted brindled quadrupeds; unoperated coffee-makers, unvisited theaters, Body Shops.

My partner left our home two months ago. I'm afraid I know when he will return.

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*Straight couples with discordant immigration statuses can sponsor their partner's visa through marriage which is recognised by the federal government. Gay couples are not as fortunate since the 1998 Defense of Marriage Act (DoMA) prevents the US federal government from recognising same-sex marriages for any purpose including spousal immigration.