The Rooster Crows

It has been suggested that I should smile more. Folks often say “SMILE!” or “you should smile more” or “you have a beautiful smile.” To the latter I often respond “Thanks, I know” being sure to add a sheepish wink.
My grandmother would always offer, when I was pouting, some completely random story of how, if the rooster crowed while I held my now infamous scowl, frown or whatever less than happy expression, my face would be locked in that position. It sometimes brought a smile to face; more often, it did not. Such a playful approach to providing emotional counsel still resonates.
My natural expression usually exemplifies my contemplative nature. I find myself thinking a lot. One thing or another is always holding my attention. Sometimes, in my car, I attempt to drown out my thoughts with obnoxiously loud music. If I’m particularly engaged, I’ll sing along.
For whatever the mood; for however I feel, neither the presence of a smile nor the lack thereof warrants comment. Just take what I give you. Usually it’s good.