Looking out my Backdoor: Do you ever get down in the mouth?

Depression by any other name is no rose, let me tell you.

Steve and Theresa, my friends from my long-time home in Washington, are back in their home. We had a lovely time together; I especially treasure the stories we told, peeling back layers to reveal more of ourselves.

When friends leave me, typically I count on three days depression before I can get myself back in gear. I don’t mean deep-clinical-want-to-rip-my-heart-out-with-a-rusty-machete-and-no-anesthetic type depression. Just a low-level down in the dumps.

Hey, they are my friends. We just had 10 days of intimacy. They flew away. I’m...