Laugh-Lines
by James P.
Wagner
Maggie’s
middle-aged reflection frowned back at her. She
turned her head from left to right, examining her
face.
“There
they are,” she said with a sigh. “Just
like my mother’s.”
“Don’t
be ridiculous, your mother has thirty years on
you!” her husband had said before leaving
for work. “And you’re gorgeous!”
“I’m
getting old.”
“No
you’re not!” he’d assured. But it
was no use. There they were in front of her,
proof of her age.
“Mommy?”
a soft voice asked.
She turned to
her seven year old, smiling. “What is it
Tammy?”
“What are
laugh-lines?”
“What do
you mean, honey?”
“I heard
you and daddy talking about laugh-lines, what are
laugh-lines?”
She smiled,
wrapping her arm around her daughter’s
shoulders. “Nothing important, sweetie.”
“Do I
have laugh-lines, mommy?”
“No honey,
luckily, you don’t have them yet.”
“Why not?”.
“Because,
they’re only something you get when
you’re older.”
“But
that’s not fair!”
Maggie laughed.
“No, it isn’t fair.”
“I want
laugh-lines mommy!”
“Trust me
honey, you don’t.”
“You have
them, Mommy! I want them too.”
Maggie sighed,
looking back and forth between the mirror and her
daughter. “You know what, honey? Come to
think of it, little girls have laugh-lines too.”
Tammy stood up
straight. “We do?”
“That’s
right.”
“Where
are they? Show me!”
“Hop up
on the sofa,” she instructed.
Eager to
comply, Tammy ran to the living room couch and
jumped up on it. Maggie followed. “Give me
your foot.” Tammy stretched out her short
leg, and her mother caught her by the ankle.
“You see all these lines, here on the
bottoms of your feet? These are your laugh-lines,”
she said coyly.
“Those?”
“Yes,
those,” she nodded. “Do you know why
they’re called laugh-lines?”
“Nuh-uh,”
Tammy shook her head.
“This is
why!” Maggie said as she gently ran her
fingernail across the little crevices on the
bottom of Tammy’s foot. There was a shriek
and a giggle. Tammy recoiled slightly. Maggie
held a gentle, but firm grasp on her
daughter’s ankle. “See?”
“Yes!”
Tammy giggled as she squirmed, never pulling her
leg too hard, not really trying to escape.
“Do you
know what laugh-lines mean, honey?” Maggie
asked, still tracing patterns on her
daughter’s foot.
“What,
Mommy?” Tammy asked, laughing earnestly.
“They
mean you laugh a lot,” Maggie replied,
sighing gently. She smiled at her daughter. Her
laugh-lines were showing.
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