REBOUNDING

Even though I'm used to working at home alone, the quarantine feels different. I'm so aware that I can't meet a friend for a meal or a coffee, can't dash out to browse the shelves at Staples looking for the perfect pen which will change my life. The texture of a life is so much about small daily connections, with people in shops or on the street, walking their dogs, pushing past a couple kissing in the aisle of a bookstore - I don't know why I'm mentioning those instead of the hundreds of other encounters and observations the day used to bring my way. Without them, I feel cut off, lonely, and find myself having to surrender resistance to the loneliness again and again, to rest easy in what simply is, to work my way back to a sense of connection. Still, not a bad thing to struggle toward acceptance, to find the way to rebound. 
   Years ago, when computers were new, there was a screen saver that was a ball moving across the black. Each time it got the the edge of the screen it rebounded, bounced back, crossing the center, heading for the next edge. That's what I feel twenty times a day - hitting the edge, bouncing back.