Gumba gives me little pats on the back when I pick her up, to comfort me, like I do her. And if she hears the intro to a thumpin' song she'll squeeze my upper arm in time with the beat, a reminder to start dancing. Also, she has perfected "uh-oh". What a shining star, she floods my mind with light and vision.
Regardless of how pleasant the children can be, a persistent shitty mood keeps poking me in the collar bone. I must love depression, overwhelming workloads, and the constant feeling of emotionally, physically, and spiritually lagging. I believe that we choose our moods, our reactions to situations, and I find myself savoring anger, cooking with self-pity, pouting like a snotty brat; delicious, but with unpleasant side effects.
"O sweet serene moments, how you vanish!
What delights us here, except our hopes,
never lasts for us, or even lingers."
--from Leopardi's Canti