Things I miss.

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.