I wish it weren’t so, but it is and it seems to be increasing. A too regular companion of mine these days is anger. I am angry about the pandemic. I am angry about the contentious state of our country and the election. I am angry about darkness and cold coming. I am angry that my husband is no longer here to share this with me. And now I have a new one. I am angry that my daughter and her husband are not coming for Thanksgiving and I probably won’t see them till long into 2021.

I can intellectualize and say I understand why we are sequestered for the pandemic and why it is too risky for my kids to come. I am old enough to have a long view and understand why the country is so fractured. And darkness, that just happens. But that does not ease the feeling of aloneness. And it does not always stop my anger venting itself on the other people.

I try putting my anger in a bubble and blowing it away. I try taking a long walk with my dog. I try talking to family on Zoom calls. I try remembering gratitude and meditating. But I confess, it is a struggle.