Bounce. Smack. Pound.
The teens playing volleyball behind me.
Bounce. Smack. Pound.
It’s soothing. I surreptitiously steal some of their energy of fun. I’m happy for them; I’m happy near them. Yet, when I leave this place, I will leave that happy with them.
Life is, in and of itself, a bouncing ball right now. Sometimes, it goes where it is planned, and other times, it rolls into the street.
Bounce. Smack. Pound.
Too much lately I find myself at the curb of a busy street corner contemplating chasing the ball into it. I know deep down someone will throw the ball back eventually or, in time, the traffic will be calm and it will be safer, but I will contemplate the aggressive chase.
Bounce. Smack. Pound.
As it makes its way around the bustle, I step a toe off of the curb and pause. What is driving me toward this chaos, especially when I know there will be calm? I don’t know, says my heart.
Bounce. Smack. Pound.
Fear. Fear is the pressure that makes me take unnecessary risks.
BOUNCE. SMACK. POUND.
I find my breath among the swirling internal noise and pull my toe back from danger. Despite knowing deep down I’ll get my ball back, I want to be the one to control the moment. “That never works,” the Universe lovingly whispers. Still, I try, and I stand there staring. Is it worth it?
Before I can answer, the voices next to me chattering about what’s in their coolers and the smell of greasy sunblock rip me back to the moment and interrupt my tumultuous considerations.
Bounce. Smack. Pound.
I’m back on this plane, once again taking small siphons of energy from the joyful volleyball game. The sweat covers me as both my conscious and subconscious start to converge under the harsh judgment of the sun.
Bounce. Smack. Pound.
I wish I knew how to feel comfort waiting for the calm instead of teetering onto the fraudulent hug of danger. Until then…
Bounce. Smack. Pound.
(Written on location on Sunday, July 28, 2024)
