Time Travel - or waiting for the soul

Long distance travel - suspended in time without place. While the body is speeding through time having dinner as if still there and then breakfast as if already arrived at the destination, bodily needs acknowledged by the provision of pillow and blanket (reminders rather than fulfillment of a need), the restless & tired mind distracted, way-led into yet another timeframe through the small screen embedded in the seat, the soul is still stubbornly lagging behind, like an intricate web, invisible but tangible, sticking and stretching, a web caught as if on a thorny shrub in a different world left behind, threads twisting, tensing, snapping, tugging heartstrings and releasing them in unexpected jolts. Scents still lingering in clothes, crumbs and bits of paper stuck in pockets, yet as the stray foreign coin falls out of the pocket before the wash, what in only a few weeks became so familiar, in front of our very eyes turns into memory. With the soul still struggling to catch up, taking its own time, refusing to speed at our command, home has become a strange place to be experienced anew, to be re-membered: feeling the carpet under our feel, drying our face on our towel, closing the curtains, curling up on the sofa, snuggling into bed, thus patiently preparing to be enfolded once again.