The Ancient Art of Canning Laughter

One thought before bed…

 
I wish I could can laughter. Like split pea soup, tomatoes, and bread and butter pickles. I want to can the laughter of those people that I love. I would keep it in a mason jar in the kitchen and label it in with whiteboard chalk-“[insert name]’s LAUGH, GIGGLE, or SNORTLE, CHUCKLE or SNARFEL.

 
I would take it out on quiet evenings like tonight, after reading a bit of Faulkner, sit in my writing nook, take out the jar, gently unscrew the lid, gingerly place the jar to my ear, and slowly lift the lid to let out a pinch of a giggle and grin as the most beautiful sound in the universe tickled it’s way into my soundscape. Peals of beautiful laughter and giggles, and chortling, and the type of snortles that make your sides ache, reminding me of the best part of love and humanness.

 
There is so much to love about another person, but their laughter…well…the laughter of loved ones is a special kind of magic…and if I could bottle that, for happy days, and average days, and sad days…well…I think that might just be the cure for any sickness of the soul.

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