Be. Where you are.


I glance right at the digital read out.
Monday: 4:00 am. Tuesday: 2 am. Now: 1:38 am.
Impressive trajectory. By Friday, you’ll be a 7-Eleven, open 7 x 24.
I run the math. 3.5 hours.
It just can’t be.
I turn away from the clock, a source of irritation, and close my eyes.
Aha! Bad, but not So bad. It’s Mountain Daylight Time without the Daylight. It’s 3:38 am EST. Jet lag has to be the culprit.

It’s silent but for the low hum of the hotel air-conditioning.
The bed, is alien. The pillows are off.
There’s no Zeke at my feet. His Leaning. First at the legs, and as the night progresses, into my torso. After seven years, when I’m away, it has become a leaning akin to a missing limb on an amputee.
Don’t open your eyes. Don’t reach for the laptop. Don’t do it.

Dot…Dot…Dot…time stamp reads 10 pm (last night).
The words from the text from Susan spill like a teletype:
He’s delayed. He’ll be landing after midnight. I’m glad you are traveling. I get to spend some alone time with him. I miss him.

Eric’s returning home from college.
And I’m in Day Three of a four day road trip.
And there it is.
The other missing limb.
My Son.

I roll to my right.
It’s silent, but for the non-stop humming of the air conditioner.
It’s pitch black, but for the florescent glow from the clock.

And, My Morning has broken. Mine is the sunlight. Mine is the morning.¹

It’s 2:15 am, now 4:15 am Eastern Standard Time.

I grab my laptop and get at it.

Post Inspiration:

It’s about building your life where you are. It’s about at last using the tablecloth you bought on that trip to Florida, the one that said ignore the winter cold, take me, the one you’ve never used no matter how much you love it, the color saying summersummersummer ocean beach heat. It’s new shoes and old shoes and pink rainboots that keep your feet dry when the creek overflows and you are knee-high in water fast flooding your yard. Even the almost annual flooding becomes magic. An adventure. Will the house flood or won’t it? No matter. Watching the creek rise brings a smile to your face. Mother Nature kicking up her heels.

~ D. Smith Kaich Jones



  1. the feel of the familiar and the longing for its touch.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The Road Warrior’s life, but not all bad. Making a positive difference around the world has its benefits. Nice to have a home base though! Take care and travel safely.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Been there, lived that…safe travels and happy homecoming.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Very interesting, that!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Home makes it all worth while. Praying for your safe travel and successful business trip.


    Liked by 1 person

  6. Fighting with the night is impossible, life-sucking, defeating. What you did was see the punch coming and roll with it. Leaves less of a bruise and more teeth in your head.

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Sleepless nights and phantom pains. Your words sketch such an image in my mind’s eye. Hate it that you’re away from home and fighting insomnia, pal, but damned glad that you’re writing….

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Great reading, so true. Thanks for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Turn the clock so you can’t see the glow. It makes missing limbs ache even more. And hardens the pillows. Good writing, happy you’ll be home soon.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Nothing beats home and our own bed! 🙂 Throw out the clock ha.

    Liked by 1 person

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