“That mole on your nose makes you look like a witch.”
Eyebrows knitted, thoughtful and yet direct in his tone, my little friend continued to chew a bite of his sandwich. He had no intention to offend. Contemplating my face with sincerity, he articulated the obvious relationship between me and a witch.
For a stunned moment, I paused to realize how often such a thought had flitted through my own mind. He, however, said it out loud with unbiased conviction.
I dared not laugh. The manner of his comment implied a certain gravity of exchange. Isn’t every witch’s face identified by at least one mole on her nose?
“Hmmm. Yes, you’re right. I do have a mole on my nose.”
I do have a mole on my nose.
Yes, I do.
A big mole.
I said that out loud, and I didn’t cry.
I laughed, inside.
© Amy Persons Parkes 2012