symptoms

I feel, at least once a week, weepily out of control. But might that be just the main symptom of being alive?
So happy I could cry, so sad I could cry, so tired I could cry?
Because the sky is pretty colors, because in many states you can get same-sex married on Saturday and fired from your job for being gay on Monday, because the boys will not go to bed.
Because the boys are growing. Because the sheer magnitude of parenting, of being responsible for another human allthetime, feels a little like looking straight up a rock face and trying to see all the handholds, the inscrutable path to the top. Because the planet is on fire.
Sometimes I think it's low grade cultural despair with a side of feeling terrible for feeling terrible.
Other times I can barely count all the good things, and their hugs feel like medicine.