I miss fretting uncontrollably about the weight of my suitcase.
I miss the horrible photograph in my passport.
I miss waking up at 4am for a 2 hour drive on empty roads.
I miss the controlled panic of a check-in queue.
I miss the frantic excitement of an airport gate.
I miss the mandatory clear plastic bags.
I miss the cabin crew and their impossibly neat hair styles.
I miss the long corridor of weird adverts that leads you to the plane.
I miss the weird plane food, and the diluted cocktails.
I even miss the cramped plane toilets.
And I miss queuing for the cramped plane toilets.
I miss the taxi rides from the airport.
I miss that first glimpse of the city through smudged taxi windows.
I miss the jet lag.
I miss the jet lag midnight snacks.
I miss the impossibly early mornings caused by jet lag.
I miss the 3 hour afternoon naps, necessary because of jet lag.
I miss eating at new places.
I miss waiting for a table.
I miss queuing for a drink.
I miss long nights, in good company, with good conversation, in beautiful places.
I miss strangers.
I miss that moment in a hotel lift, when a stranger over shares, and tells you about their day, and you don’t care. But you listen and smile anyway.
I miss hotel room keys.
I miss loosing hotel rooms keys.
I miss finding those lost hotel room keys in old pockets or bags months after coming home.
I miss hotel bathrooms. And overhead showers.
I miss fluffy bathrobes and fresh towels.
I miss ‘getting ready’ and ‘going out’.
I miss being spontaneous.
I miss stumbling across something unexpected.
I miss meeting someone unexpected.
I miss the feeling of fleeting days.
I miss the luxury of ‘wasting’ days, however we saw fit to waste them.
I miss doing nothing, but nothing being a good feeling.
I miss my freedom.
I miss my friends.
I miss my family.
I miss my old life.