In some ways it feels as if a part of me is missing and in other ways I feel exactly the same. I hate being apart from her for whatever the reason. The long nights traveling for my job is when I feel it the most. Being on the road is like going through hell and then some. The restless nights lying in a bed of someone else’s filth. They say the beds are clean or at least the card on the pillow states, but are they ever really clean? How does one actually clean up the semen and the sweat that soaks up into the mattress? Sure your nicer establishments have some sort of protection. A mattress condom if you will but the cheaper places? The places I have to stay because my boss cares more about the bottom line than the comfort of the poor bastard who makes that line exist, those places are brimming with semen, sweat, and who knows what else.
I find myself sleeping on the floor most nights on the road. Not that the floors in these skank motels are any cleaner, but I’m less likely to sleep in somebody’s fluids. As I lie on this particular floor on makeshift bed of motel linens I wonder what she is thinking about in our nice comfortable bed. I wonder if she thinks of me or quite simply nothing at all. Another conference in the morning. Another meet and greet with unknown clients. Does well for business though I can’t say the same for my soul. I could say it would be good for me if I was the boss. If I reaped anything from any of this outside of a check. I wonder if I leave tomorrow night or the following morning. Something I should check, but I’m too lazy to get up off the floor. Either way it is just one more shitty flight to an even shitter place. When you are young you want to travel, to see the world, but as you get older and then a little bit more that sense of adventure seems to slip right out of your mind. Now all I want is a chance to make up for all those lost years of traveling, of being apart. Those long night without me by her side. It pains me to think about it. It pains me every time that I see her she has changed a little bit more.
The longer I am gone the farther we grow apart. I miss her and I miss her more whenever we are together. Where did those years go? Did I not live them? Or have I been living in this traveling coma for so long that I simply don’t remember. One thing I do know is that she is still waiting for me. Back home she waits for my arrival and I’m sure my departure. To her I’m sure I am seen as never going or never there. To her I’m sure that when this trip is over it will all be too late. That is what she said I’m sure or at least of what I remember her saying. She doesn’t say much anymore. Lays in silence mostly. Silently waiting for my return.