Moods. Everybody has them. For me, they may percolate from the depths of the black hole to the heights of the stars without ever leveling off at earth. While the moods of many may not swing from extreme to extreme, few go through life in a mood monotone.
Oh, to be a five-year-old Pollyanna. Since that’s impossible, it’s almost as good to spend the day with one. She woke up in a cheerful mood, eager to wear her new sundress. Even before breakfast, she dressed herself, brushed her hair and fixed it in place with one yellow barrette and one pink one. The colorful mixture not only matched the colors of her dress, but also of her mood.
She settled down in front of the television to watch Saturday morning cartoons. Watching her favorite show seemed to make her peanut butter and jelly breakfast sandwich taste even better. She was content.
Later, she was just as content to go watch older brother play his first baseball game of the season. Well, she didn’t really watch the game; she just enjoyed playing in the dirt. After all, isn’t that what park dirt is for?
Back home, she readily jumped into the tub and agreed to have hair washed even in the middle of the day. She sang. You could hear her all the way down the hall.
Dressed in clean clothes again, she sauntered forth to pick a bouquet of wild flowers. She presented them to her mother with a kiss. Then it was back outside to watch a playful chameleon scamper around the porch.
Even an afternoon thunder shower didn’t dampen her spirits. She pulled out the paints. And paint she did. Although she says black is her favorite color, she painted rainbow flowers with each petal a different hue. They were a big and bold and bright as she had been all day. True reflection of a young artist’s soul.
Twilight darkened the sky, but not her spirit. While the porch lights played games with the rain puddles, she once again sang as she stared out the window. And her song reminded her of one more thing she wanted to do before the day’s end. She dashed off to listen to her records. For an hour or more, she sang along and read along with each story record. She may have been lost in her own world, but her exuberance reached out and touched everyone near.
What made it such a good day for her? Little things? Simple things? The day was little different from most of her days, but she greeted this one special. And she seemed totally unaware of how her perkiness affected everyone with whom she came in contact. Regardless of their momentary mood, it improved on contact with her.
After a hectic week, I found myself unwinding tensions and replacing them with a serenity seldom experienced. She was that contagious. And I could not help but wonder what my drastic moods do to others.
1981
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