Disconnected

I am disconnected. Cut off. There is a line from me to all those I love, but it has been cut and those ends are hanging with unreceived communication dripping from them. Okay that was pretty dramatic, but I thought the metaphor adequately describes what it is like being hundreds of miles from home. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, the students and my colleagues. But every day, at some point, I will think "Oh man, so-and-so would love that!" And yet, whoever that person is, they are far away and so the communication goes undelivered. It is the sharing of life's experiences which is missing. There have been days when the only communication I have is with the check-out person at the grocery store, and days where there has been no communication at all.

When my children were small and they misbehaved, they would be sent for time out and their lines of communication with others would be cut. They were not allowed to talk to others until they had thought about whatever it was they had done. That was the punishment in our house. So I find myself wondering if in some way I am being punished for something I have done. Analytically I don't think so, but at times it feels that way.

On the other hand, there is something to be said for a solitary existence, to be able to silence the cacophony of voices pulling one's attention in a myriad of directions simultaneously. Not that I have been particularly productive, but I do feel that now I can focus on those things which are important. I will spend my weekends this summer writing, preparing the story I must now tell. Disconnection has led to an ability to focus.