I received a lovely postcard today, out of the blue, from my Dad. But not really since he was out of town last week. But anywho... the front was Curious George holding tight to his balloons. Dad wrote...
It made me smile a great smile when I thought of the nights spent reading these books. No amount of time that passes will dim those memories.
How lucky each of us is to smile a great smile every now and then. Even if it's something small, something old, something long past. I feel like today's culture discounts smiles and even warns against them. I was in Nicaragua last year, a beautiful place filled with beautiful souls, and one of the people on the trip never smiled in a single picture. Was he unhappy or just trying to look tough, aloof? I have a few friends who do it and I never understand. I've been told more than a few times that I have a great smile, though secretly I think I look a little deranged in pictures when I'm really happy. I look ready to eat someone. But at least you can tell I'm not faking it.
Pasted smiles and forced solemnity only perpepuate our glossed-over, lonelier-by-the-day world. We're surrounded by computers, cell phones, fast food, ATMs... all these things that make us forget what it feels like to laugh so hard you cry, or to snort milk out your nose. I love it when that happens.