When I was a teenager I looked forward to our yearly excursion to the Festival of St. Rocco Church during Labor Day weekend. The highlight of the day was the greased pole climb.
I believe optimism is like the greased pole, hard to hold on to. Every day brings new challenges – some good, some not so much. Combine the daily challenges with my ability to attract pessimistic people into my life and I sometimes find optimism slipping away like a fragile butterfly. I might grab for its colorful wings but even if I catch it for a second, it flits out of my grasp.
The glass usually appears half full to me. Some family members and friends tend to see half-empty glasses. My dad would say, fill up my coffee cup, I'm almost on empty. My mom saw only empty glasses. I want my glass filled to the brim with root beer, ice cream and chocolate syrup. I still don't like empty or half-empty glasses. I'll keep mine filled.
Optimism gives me hope. I enjoy walking in the rain, sloshing through puddles, believing the sun will come out tomorrow. If it doesn't, that's OK. The sun is still up there, hidden by a few dark clouds. Sooner or later the sun will break through the clouds, shining brightly. I will bask in its warmth.
As long as I can remain optimistic, life is good. The doom-and-gloom people in my life are entitled to their opinions. As long as I don't take them too seriously, I'm fine. I'll follow the yellow brick road as far as it will take me, then I'll catch a ride on a rainbow.