Wide Awake in a Quiet World
Missing my little travel partner on the other side of the clock.
Jet lag is a strange thing. Your body is exhausted, your mind is wide awake, and the world around you feels like it’s holding its breath. It’s late here. Or early. Honestly, I’m not even sure anymore. What I do know is that for the first time in this whole trip… I’m alone.
No little footsteps.
No early-morning babble.
No tiny hand reaching for mine.
Just silence.
I didn’t realize how loud Jasper had become in my life until the noise disappeared. His laughs, his cries, his random bursts of energy at the exact moment I’m running on fumes — all of it has become the rhythm of my days. And tonight, that rhythm is missing.
The irony is wild. I traveled halfway across the world, crossed time zones, cultures, and oceans… and somehow the biggest distance I feel is the few rooms — or few miles — between me and my son right now.
I’m proud of him. I miss him. Both can be true.
Jet lag keeps my eyes open, but it’s my heart that feels wide awake — replaying his smile, his voice, the way he says nothing at all and still says everything. I keep telling myself this moment of quiet is temporary. That soon the noise will come back. The beautiful, exhausting, chaotic noise that only a toddler can create.
Until then, I’ll sit here in the dark, tired but grateful.
Because missing him like this only proves how full my life is with him in it.
Sleep will come eventually.
Jasper always makes sure of that.
You can see the first time this happened here: