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Time-travel


Dear me,


One of the sisters and I are talking [but really, I am ranting and the sister is listening with equal parts amusement and annoyance]. The subject of my rant is air travel.


I am a bad flier. I can't sleep on airplanes. Using the tiny loo irks the germaphobe in me. Bumping elbows with row-mates during meals is too much intimacy - in what is already too many people in too close proximity - with nowhere to run for space (save the aforementioned loo). But what irks me the most about flying is the distorted sense of time. The lights go on in the cabin - it is meal time. The lights go off in the cabin - it is sleep time. Screen time fills the gaps. In flight, whether it is light or dark outside the cabin is of little consequence. You sleep and eat as directed - in limbo between the time you left and the time you are headed to.


I pause and the sister offers what she believes is sage advice: "Just chill - take it that time doesn't matter." I give her a flinty glare and the following response: "Time is a function of distance. We have days because the Earth travels round and round on its axis. We have years because the Earth travels round and round the Sun. We have time because we have distance. An airplane is purpose built to travel distance. It can effectively make us arrive before we leave. An airplane is effectively a time-travelling machine. Time CANNOT not matter!" The sister gazes at me with an unreadable look and then replies with a "Woahhhhhhhh ...".


We burst into laughter. In that moment, time does not matter. There is only the fact of shared hilarity with someone that I care for, and who cares for me, beyond any measure. In that moment, I recognise time for what it really is (to me at least) - a function of the distance I travel with the people who matter.


Love,

you


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