our laughs are like our fingerprints

i love listening to laughter. it's a beautiful and simple thing.

i was laying on my bed reading this afternoon while in the room next door my two nieces were cackling away like - well, like two little girls. caitlyn, 11, has a laugh that is somewhere in between the unmistakable guffaws of bart and lisa simpson. just hearing caitlyn laugh makes me laugh. every. single. time.

each of my nieces have got such unique laughs. we all do. our laughs are like our fingerprints, only much more interesting.

we hear people laugh in public all the time - yet i can't help but feel that hearing someone laugh is a moment to share in something quite intimate. our laugh reflects the way that we are tickled by the world around us; the intonation, the hiss, the pitch, the choke, the vibration, the wheeze, the nasal-oral ratio.

i often try to work out whether caitlyn sounds more like bart or more like lisa... it's a mystery i shall never solve. each staccato of her unbridled glee switches between bart and lisa like a metronome that never hovers long enough for me to be sure.

and, honestly, i guess it's not something i care to ever know the answer. laughter, with all of its mesmerising idiosyncrasies, should be left simple. most beautiful things are.