Her hair flicks outward and she has slightly off-center eyes. Her fingers are stubby and her nails are always uneven. She is a goofball though, so you might just like her. But it is when she reads that she fascinates me – no amount of hollering her name when she has her nose buried in her book will elicit a response, such is her focus.
Sometimes, I sit around for a bit, watch her face (like a creep) as she devours literature like the sunlight devours the moon. Sometimes, her scrunched up reading-face droops a bit while a single tear snakes down her cheek. I may also need to hold her as desolate sobs shudder through her being or work up a righteous anger when she rants about how silly the heroine’s decision is.
But I do look forward to when she reads Wodehouse. First, there is the smallest curve at the edge of her lips. Then, the smile grows bigger, a full-blown half circle now. Next step is hearty laughter and I can help break into a toothy grin at how raucous she is. Happiness IS infectious.
“And she's got brains enough for two, which is the exact quantity the girl who marries you will need.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Mostly Sally
