I must be quite a sight, with my hands and feet a muddy, dirty mess, my face caked with mud and tears and my straggling hair as I wobble up a pile of dirt barely a few feet high, screaming and crying the whole time. It's not hard at all. I just make it harder than it is. I always have.
When will I learn not to? I want to learn to giggle at molehills. To laugh at mountains. To tackle them. Scramble up them and slide down the other side in relative ease. Because mountains and molehills are unavoidable. The bad attitude with which I face them is though.
Laugh at danger. Laugh at hardship. Laughing, laughing. Like Tulkas.
Teach me teach me how to laugh. And when I'm weary, be my hot water bath.