In a disorienting world of groundhog days, time is an illusion. The days swirl together in an unending blur.
We sit at computers, glued to screens, grateful for glimpses of pixelized humans.
Until… we play grass volleyball and awaken decades-old muscle memory and joyful competition. Arms flimsy with age, shaking to serve. Late legs, unbending torso launching balls high and out. It’s all not quite how I remembered.
But how good it felt… to ache and be sore. To soak up the mud between my toes. To laugh and high-five. To win. To lose. To feel.
Just for one day, to be alive again, outside in a park, away from fires and covid and fear.
To play my way out of a timeless warp.