Traveling With

Ah, Jet Lag. 

My old friend. My antagonist. My inquisitor. My traveling companion.

I’ve missed you.

You bring discomfort, you bring pain, you bring embarrassment. You bring contentment, you bring wisdom, you bring vision, yet you always, always leave peace behind.

You are the warm embrace of a loved one long gone and just now returned, you are the rusty nail through the sole of my shoe.

You are my friend because every time you show up I am in some faraway place, seeing and doing things that are new and exciting and interesting.

You are my foe because you ache my joints and fog my senses and dull my taste buds.

Every time I head off for another adventure, I see you growing larger in my rearview mirror. Gaining on me yet again.

The closer I get to where I’m going the closer you get to me. 

I see you drawing near, a sly grin across your face and malice in your eyes. 

“I’m going to hurt you for a little while old friend” you say with smug delight.

“I know you are” I reply just as happily. 

When we are in each other’s company, you torture my night’s sleep and obscure my day’s memories. I try to hold you at bay, to sleep you away, to make you leave. It’s a terrible, painful little game we play. But play it we must.

Then one night I sleep well, and you’re behind me in the rearview mirror again. I sleep another night through, I eat a couple of good meals and you’re falling further back, your image and affects shrinking. I give you the finger. You smile and nod.

As I watch you recede I know you’ll be back, and so do you. Just before you disappear over the horizon of my recent past, you waggle a finger at me, show your teeth and say, “I’m here waiting for you old friend. Don’t get too comfortable. I’ll return soon enough and we shall dance again.”

I say quietly to you, “You know where to find me, asshole.”

I can’t wait.