Moments Missed

I have to get on a plane again on Monday morning to fly to a place that isn’t warm and doesn’t have a beach. I like traveling to new places, but this place isn’t new and there isn’t anything too remarkable about it. It is a college town so they have a pretty amazing Starbucks. You know what they don’t have though? Snowglobes. Except at the airport. What town doesn’t have souvenir snow globes?

So I am going and I’ll miss 2 1/2 days of my normal life. I get upset at Daylight Savings Time when they steal an hour from me, so 2 1/2 days seems like an eternity. I’ll FaceTime my family, which usually means the chickens fight over who gets to be on the camera and then my husband ends up yelling at them because they aren’t saying anything and then the call usually ends with someone upset. I’ll probably eat a burger and fries for dinner then end up at the Walgreens buying circus peanuts. I’ll have every intention of getting up early and working out in the hotel gym, and then I will hit snooze and go back to sleep.

The hotel room is creepy too. The freaky pictures on the wall are something out of a horror movie. The first time I stayed there, the oil painting on the wall was of this naked woman running in the forest, looking over her shoulder as she ran down the path. I swear her eyes kept following me throughout the room. This last time, it was a dog in a college sweater, sitting upright like a human, on the top of a truck. Hotel rooms freak me out in general and these paintings are not helping.

Overall, it makes sense that I be there for work, but why can’t I be in two places? Clone myself so I don’t have to miss my life here. I guess if I figured that out, then I would be rich and wouldn’t need to work anymore so the whole point would be moot.

I find myself so grateful for moments I get with the people I love, and when all you get are moments and that’s how you make it through the week, missing those moments feels like you’ve missed pages out of a book. You’ll keep reading and you’ll be able to figure out what happens, but you’ll have a few gaps in the story. And what about the people I leave? Do they start to get used to me being gone and miss me just a little bit less? Is it absence makes the heart grow fonder or absence makes the heart grow weary? I live for those moments (and my hugs), so I’ll tolerate the 2 1/2 days, but I won’t make leaving a habit.

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Augster, I will not miss our moments together. I enjoy the break from the drool.

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