Lesson 7- Have the last laugh

They say the best laugh is the last one. In our house the person who does the most laughing is my husband. He laughs at jokes. He laughs at pets, kids and people. He even laughs at his own shortcomings.
Just last week our granddaughter (who now chooses to be known by her pen name, Valerie Fields) presented Biker Mike with an award for his sense of humor.

The person in our house who will not win an award for her sense of humor is, of course, me. How fitting that the day I won my first writing competition, I missed the call because I was in a tent in my bedroom. As the contest director left me a voice message, I was watching World's Greatest Roller coasters on TV while Valerie Fields styled my hair. She was using lots of product to get my hair to cooperate. I was horrified when I found out 'product' to a six  year old stylist was spit. I sat very still, so none spilled on the carpet.

I left the tent to show off my hairdo and make lunch. I checked my e-mail. There it was. Congratulations, it read. I made Biker Mike read it, in case product was affecting my vision.

I cried a second as he read it aloud. The piece, "Last Kiss", was the story of my mother's last year. Conceived in pain, it was a blueprint of the most profound chapter of my life. After months of shaping and sculpting, an essay emerged. One that made me prouder to have known my mother than sad to have lost her. Its success was no lottery thrill or blind surprise, but a feeling of satisfaction at the end of very hard work. My mother would have been proud. And she would have applauded the timing. Not taking oneself seriously was one of her most popular pieces of advice. She worked hard and played even harder. That my 15 minutes of fame came in the company of such silliness would have made her happy. Even now I can hear her having the last laugh.