Love Gifts
No conflict. No agenda. No cussing. Just stories that bring joy. Read them. Share them. Give them to someone you love.
Love Gift No. 1
By Blurt Snodgrass
The annual Summerville Carnival was in utter disarray, with people running hurrys-curry, their faces painted with a mix of confusion and amusement. Clowns were chasing after escaped monkeys, while acrobats found themselves entangled in a web of cotton candy. The cause of this pandemonium? A single, tiny, blue butterfly.
Just moments ago, the carnival had been a picture of merriment and laughter. Children gleefully rode the Ferris wheel, their parents watching with contented smiles. The smell of popcorn and caramel apples wafted through the air, mingling with the excited chatter of the crowd. No one could have predicted the chaos that was about to unfold.
As the butterfly fluttered innocently through the fairgrounds, it left a trail of mischief in its wake. It landed on the nose of a clown, causing him to sneeze so violently that his red nose flew off and landed in a vat of candyfloss. The sticky treat began to spin, faster and faster, until it had engulfed the entire booth in a sugary whirlwind.
The butterfly, seemingly unaware of the havoc it had wrought, continued its journey, alighting gently on the tail of a monkey. The primate, startled by the sudden touch, let out a screech and leapt from its handler's arms. In a matter of seconds, a dozen monkeys were swinging from the carnival's tents, their mischievous laughter echoing through the air.
As the butterfly danced through the carnival, it left a trail of chaos in its wake. The acrobats, distracted by the fluttering creature, lost their balance and tumbled into a heap of limbs and spandex. The magician's rabbit, ordinarily so well-behaved, hopped out of its hat and began a game of tag with the butterfly, much to the magician's dismay.
The carnival-goers watched in amazement as the tiny insect single-handedly dismantled the orderly event. Some laughed, others shook their heads in disbelief, but all were transfixed by the sheer absurdity of the situation.
Little did they know that this was only the beginning of the blue butterfly's adventures.
The city of Summerville was in a state of confusion, with reports of strange occurrences pouring in from every corner. Traffic lights were malfunctioning, causing cars to dance a haphazard ballet on the streets. In the park, squirrels were caught in a spirited game of tag, while bemused onlookers watched in wonder. The cause of this city-wide commotion? None other than the mischievous blue butterfly.
Having left the carnival in a state of joyful disarray, the butterfly had set its sights on the unsuspecting city. It fluttered through the streets, leaving a trail of bemused pedestrians and perplexed pets in its wake.
As it passed by the local barbershop, the butterfly's wings created a gentle breeze that sent the barber's hand slipping. The result was a series of lopsided haircuts that had customers scratching their heads in bewilderment. The butterfly, oblivious to the confusion it had caused, continued its journey, alighting on the nose of a sleeping policeman. The officer awoke with a start, his eyes crossing comically as he tried to focus on the tiny creature perched on his face.
The butterfly's next stop was the city's botanical gardens, where it led a group of enthralled toddlers on a merry chase through the flower beds. The children giggled with delight as they followed the fluttering insect, their tiny feet trampling the carefully tended blooms.
As news of the butterfly's antics spread, the city's residents began to gather in the streets, their eyes scanning the skies for a glimpse of the elusive creature. Some held butterfly nets, others carried cameras, all eager to capture a moment of the unfolding chaos.
The butterfly, for its part, seemed to revel in the attention. It dipped and soared, its wings catching the sunlight and casting a mesmerizing blue glow over the city. People pointed and gasped, their faces alight with wonder and amusement.
But the butterfly's adventures were far from over. With a flick of its wings, it set off towards its next destination, leaving the city in a state of delighted disarray.
The Summerville Zoo was a scene of utter pandemonium, with animals running amok and zookeepers chasing after them in a frantic game of catch-me-if-you-can. The elephants were spraying unsuspecting visitors with water from their trunks, while the monkeys swung gleefully from the branches, tossing fruit at anyone who came too close. The cause of this animal uprising? A tiny, blue butterfly with a penchant for mischief.
The butterfly had fluttered into the zoo, innocently seeking a place to rest its wings. But as it danced from enclosure to enclosure, it unwittingly set off a chain reaction of chaos.
It began with the lion, who was so startled by the sudden appearance of the butterfly that he let out a mighty roar. The sound echoed through the zoo, sending the other animals into a frenzy. The zebras, convinced that danger was afoot, began to gallop in circles, their hooves pounding against the ground in a dizzying display of black and white.
The butterfly, unperturbed by the commotion it had caused, fluttered on to the penguin enclosure. As it landed on the nose of a particularly curious bird, the penguin let out a squawk of surprise and toppled backwards into the water. In a matter of moments, the entire colony was engaged in a spirited game of "follow the leader," with the butterfly at the helm.
As the zookeepers tried in vain to restore order, the butterfly continued its tour of the zoo. It led the giraffes on a merry dance through the treetops, their long necks swaying in time to some unheard melody. It perched atop the head of a grumpy hippopotamus, causing the massive creature to crack a smile for the first time in years.
The visitors to the zoo watched in amazement as the animals cavorted and played, their usual routines forgotten in the wake of the butterfly's mischief. Children clapped and cheered, their faces alight with joy and wonder.
But the butterfly, ever the wanderer, soon tired of the zoo's delights. With a flick of its wings, it soared over the fence and disappeared into the blue sky, leaving behind a menagerie of happy, if somewhat bewildered, animals.
The zookeepers, exhausted but amused, could only shake their heads in wonder. They had no idea where the butterfly had come from or where it was headed, but one thing was certain: the Summerville Zoo would never be the same again.
The Summerville Annual Flower Show was in a state of colorful chaos, with blossoms of every hue scattered haphazardly across the ground. Roses mingled with daffodils, while tulips tangoed with chrysanthemums in a dizzying display of floral confusion. The cause of this botanical bedlam? None other than the ever-mischievous blue butterfly.
The butterfly had arrived at the flower show, attracted by the vibrant array of colors and scents. As it fluttered from bloom to bloom, it unwittingly set off a chain reaction of events that would go down in Summerville history.
It began with a sneeze. As the butterfly alighted on the nose of a particularly sensitive judge, the man let out a mighty "achoo!" The force of the sneeze sent him tumbling backwards, knocking over a vase of prized petunias. The flowers flew through the air, their delicate petals scattering like confetti.
The butterfly, startled by the sudden commotion, beat a hasty retreat, its wings stirring up a gentle breeze. The breeze, in turn, caught the edges of a tablecloth, sending it billowing into the air. In a matter of moments, the entire flower show was a sea of fluttering fabric and flying flowers.
As the judges and exhibitors tried in vain to restore order, the butterfly continued its tour of the show. It led a conga line of bees through the rose garden, their tiny bodies swaying in time to some unheard beat. It perched atop the head of a gigantic sunflower, causing the bloom to bend and sway like a dancer in the wind.
The visitors to the flower show watched in amazement as the once orderly event descended into a riot of color and chaos. Some laughed, others shook their heads in disbelief, but all were transfixed by the sheer absurdity of the situation.
As the day wore on, the butterfly's energy began to wane. It had fluttered and danced its way through the entire show, leaving a trail of laughter and confusion in its wake. With a final, tired flap of its wings, it settled down on a soft bed of moss and closed its eyes.
The flower show slowly returned to normal, with exhibitors rearranging their displays and judges attempting to salvage what was left of their dignity. But the memory of the blue butterfly's antics would live on in Summerville lore for years to come.
As for the butterfly itself, it had no idea of the chaos it had caused. It had simply followed its instincts, seeking out the beauty and wonder of the world around it. And in doing so, it had brought a touch of magic to the lives of all who had crossed its path.
In a small, unremarkable garden on the outskirts of Summerville, a tiny caterpillar nibbled on a leaf, unaware of the extraordinary adventure that awaited it. The caterpillar, a rather plain creature with a voracious appetite, had spent its days munching its way through the garden's foliage, content in its simple existence.
But as the sun rose on a particularly warm spring morning, the caterpillar felt a strange stirring within. It ceased its nibbling and began to spin, its tiny body working tirelessly to create a silken cocoon.
For days, the caterpillar remained hidden within its self-made sanctuary, its body undergoing a miraculous transformation. And then, on a day that seemed no different from any other, the cocoon began to crack.
From within the depths of the silken tomb emerged a breathtaking sight: a butterfly, its wings a dazzling shade of blue, stretched its new appendages for the first time. The creature, still groggy from its metamorphosis, took a moment to admire its own beauty, marveling at the intricate patterns that adorned its wings.
With a flick of its wings, the butterfly took to the sky, its tiny body carried aloft by a gentle breeze. It had no idea of the adventures that lay ahead, of the laughter and chaos it would bring to the unsuspecting residents of Summerville.
As it fluttered through the garden, the butterfly's wings caught the sunlight, casting a mesmerizing blue glow across the flowers and leaves. It was a sight that would have taken one's breath away, had anyone been there to witness it.
But the garden was empty, save for the tiny creature that danced among the blossoms. The butterfly, unaware of its own significance, simply followed its instincts, seeking out the nectar that would sustain it on its journey.
And so, the blue butterfly began its adventure, a tiny creature with the power to bring joy and wonder to the world around it. It had no idea of the lives it would touch, the memories it would create, or the laughter it would inspire.
But one thing was certain: the butterfly's journey was just beginning, and the world would never be the same again.
As the butterfly disappeared over the horizon, the garden seemed to sigh with contentment. It had witnessed the birth of something truly special, a creature destined to bring a touch of magic to the lives of all who crossed its path.
And though the garden would never know the full extent of the butterfly's adventures, it would always hold a special place in its heart for the tiny creature that had emerged from its midst.
For in the end, it was the garden that had given birth to the blue butterfly, a tiny miracle that would go on to change the world, one flutter at a time.
Love Gift No. 2
By Blurt Snodgrass
It started with a single snicker from the back of Mrs. Henderson's third-grade classroom. Just a tiny outburst, quickly stifled by the student responsible as all eyes turned toward the source of the disturbance. The perpetrator, Tommy Peters, shrugged innocently while Mrs. Henderson frowned in mild surprise.
"Something funny you'd like to share with the class, Tommy?" the teacher asked.
Tommy vigorously shook his head, biting his lip to keep from laughing again. He didn't even know why he was laughing. That was the thing. There was no joke. There was no reason. It just bubbled up from somewhere inside him, warm and fizzy, like a shaken soda bottle with the cap still on.
Mrs. Henderson eyed him for a moment before turning back to her math lesson on the chalkboard.
But then it happened again — a soft giggling peal, this time unmistakably from the vicinity of Suzie Miller's desk across the room. Suzie went red in the face, desperately trying to suppress her bubbly outburst without much success. She clamped both hands over her mouth. Her shoulders shook.
"Suzie! This is no time for laughing," Mrs. Henderson said, hands on her hips. "I don't know what's so funny, but you both need to get ahold of your—"
Her words caught in her throat as Jimmy Walters, seated right in front of her, erupted into a guffawing howl of uncontrollable laughter. He slapped his hand over his mouth, but it was too late — his raucous chortles had already set off a fresh wave of giggles rippling across the classroom like dominoes.
"Hey, what's so funny?" Bobby Sanders piped up from the back, before dissolving into snickers himself.
Within seconds, half the class had joined the inexplicable laugh party. Desks shook. Papers went flying. Mrs. Henderson's attempts to restore order fell on deaf ears as a wave of hilarity washed over the stunned students.
Even she wasn't immune. Try as she might to remain stern, the teacher's lips began twitching upward into a reluctant smile as the uproarious pandemonium reached a crescendo all around her. She let out a strangled cough, attempting to swallow her own burgeoning chuckles.
And then, unable to resist the infectious hilarity overtaking the room, Mrs. Henderson threw back her head and laughed. Really laughed. The kind of laugh she hadn't had since she was a little girl catching fireflies in her grandmother's yard.
Any last shreds of self-control disintegrated in an instant. Tears streaming down their faces, the entire class — teacher included — dissolved into a roaring chorus of uncontainable mirth, their laughter echoing through the halls of Mayfield Elementary.
No one could explain it.
No one tried.
It just felt good.
Within the hour, the mysterious giggle epidemic had spread well beyond Mrs. Henderson's classroom.
It moved the way a good smell moves — drifting under doors, curling around corners, slipping through the cracks. You didn't have to be in the room. You just had to be close enough to hear it. And once you heard it, you were done for.
Mr. Kowalski's fifth-graders were the next to go. Charlie Humphreys, a normally quiet boy who spent most of his time drawing rockets in the margins of his notebook, was dutifully taking notes on the American Revolution when a single, unexplained giggle slipped out. He didn't even realize it had happened until the girl next to him started laughing, and then the boy behind her, and then the entire row.
Mr. Kowalski stood at the front of the room with his hands raised, trying to calm everyone down. "People, people, let's focus—" But his voice cracked on the word "focus," and that was all it took. The whole class went.
Down the hall, the fourth-graders were next. Then the second-graders. Then the kindergartners, who didn't need much encouragement to begin with.
The school secretary, Mrs. Pulaski, heard the commotion from the front office. She marched down the hallway with the purposeful stride of a woman who had maintained order at Mayfield Elementary for twenty-three years. She opened the door to the nearest classroom, ready to deliver a firm reminder about indoor voices.
She lasted about four seconds.
Something about the sight of thirty children laughing so hard that some of them had slid off their chairs and were sitting on the floor — combined with the teacher leaning against the whiteboard, wiping tears from his eyes — broke through her defenses like sunshine through a window. She covered her mouth. She tried to look serious. She snorted. And then she was gone.
By midday recess, the school grounds had descended into joyful madness. Children laughed on the swings. They laughed on the jungle gym. They laughed while hanging upside down from the monkey bars. Teachers stood in clusters, holding their sides, trying to catch their breath between waves of giggles.
Vice Principal Rosenblum marched out onto the playground with a bullhorn, determined to be the one person who could put a stop to this. She raised the bullhorn to her lips, took a deep breath, and said, "Attention, students. This is Vice Principal Rosenblum. I need everyone to—"
She stepped in a mud puddle.
Her left shoe stayed behind. Her right foot kept going. For one glorious, suspended moment, she windmilled her arms like a cartoon character before landing with a magnificent splat.
She sat there in the mud, bullhorn still in hand, her glasses crooked on her face.
The playground went silent for exactly one second.
And then every single child, every single teacher, and even the crossing guard at the far end of the parking lot erupted into the loudest, most joyful laughter Mayfield Elementary had ever heard.
Vice Principal Rosenblum looked down at herself. Mud on her blazer. Mud on her skirt. One shoe missing. She looked up at the sea of laughing faces.
And she laughed too. A real laugh. A deep, helpless, wonderful laugh that she would remember for the rest of her life.
By the end of the school day, parents arrived to pick up their children and found a schoolyard full of the happiest people they had ever seen. Teachers were sitting on benches with tears of laughter still drying on their cheeks. Children ran to their parents' cars with enormous grins, still giggling in little aftershocks.
"What happened today?" parents asked.
"I don't know," the children said. "But it was the best day ever."
The laughter rode home in minivans and station wagons, in the backseats of sedans and the cabs of pickup trucks. It walked home with the kids who lived close enough to walk. It traveled on school buses that rattled through neighborhoods where people looked up from their lawns and gardens, wondering why every child on the bus was laughing.
At the Walters house, Jimmy's mother was making dinner when Jimmy came through the door, still grinning. He told her about Mrs. Henderson. He told her about Mr. Kowalski's voice cracking. He told her about Vice Principal Rosenblum in the mud puddle. By the time he got to the part about the crossing guard, his mother was leaning against the kitchen counter, laughing so hard the pasta water boiled over.
Jimmy's father came home from work to find his wife and son sitting at the kitchen table, laughing about nothing. He stood in the doorway, briefcase in hand, confused. He asked what was so funny. They tried to explain. They couldn't. They just laughed harder. He sat down. He watched them. And slowly, inevitably, the corners of his mouth turned up.
Across town, similar scenes played out in living rooms and kitchens and backyard patios. The laughter was patient. It didn't rush. It didn't force itself on anyone. It just waited, warm and easy, until you were ready.
At the Mayfield Diner, the evening crowd noticed something unusual. Every family that came in was smiling. Not the polite, tired smiles of people at the end of a long day, but real smiles — the kind that made their eyes crinkle and their shoulders relax. The waitress, Dolores, who had been waitressing for thirty-one years and had seen just about everything, said it was the best Tuesday evening shift she'd ever worked.
The cook heard Dolores laughing through the kitchen window. He peeked out and saw the whole restaurant smiling. He shook his head and went back to his grill, but he was smiling too.
By nine o'clock, the laughter had settled into something quieter — a warmth that lingered in the chest, a lightness in the step, a softness around the eyes. Children fell asleep easily that night, still smiling. Parents sat together on couches, not watching television, just sitting. Feeling good. Feeling like something nice had happened, even if they couldn't quite put it into words.
The next morning, Mayfield woke up different.
Not dramatically different. The sun rose on schedule. The coffee makers beeped at the usual time. The school buses followed the same routes. But something was softer. Something was lighter.
Mrs. Henderson arrived at school early, as she always did. She set her things on her desk and looked at the chalkboard where she had been halfway through a math lesson when the whole thing started. She smiled. She erased the board and wrote in large letters: "Good morning. Yesterday was wonderful."
When her students filed in, they read the message and grinned. Tommy Peters, the boy who had started it all, raised his hand.
"Mrs. Henderson?"
"Yes, Tommy?"
"Can we do that again today?"
Mrs. Henderson looked at him. She thought about her lesson plan. She thought about the curriculum. She thought about standardized tests and report cards and all the things she was supposed to think about.
"I don't think it works that way, Tommy," she said gently. "I don't think anyone started it on purpose. It just happened."
Tommy considered this for a moment. "But it was real, right? It really happened?"
"It really happened."
Tommy nodded, satisfied. He opened his math book. But he was still smiling.
Out on the playground before the first bell, children talked about the day before the way you talk about a snow day or a birthday party — something magical that interrupted the ordinary and made everything shimmer for a little while. Some of them tried to make it happen again. They told jokes. They made funny faces. A few of them even tried just laughing on purpose, hoping to spark the chain reaction.
It didn't work. Not like yesterday. But it didn't matter. Because the trying itself was fun.
Vice Principal Rosenblum walked through the front doors that morning wearing a different pair of shoes. The mud-stained blazer had been replaced with a cardigan. She looked, if anything, slightly more relaxed than usual. When she passed Mrs. Pulaski in the front office, the two women looked at each other.
"Good morning," said Vice Principal Rosenblum.
"Good morning," said Mrs. Pulaski.
They both smiled. Not a big smile. Just a knowing one. The kind of smile that said: we were there.
No one ever figured out what caused the giggle epidemic of Mayfield Elementary. The local paper ran a small story about it, using words like "unusual" and "unexplained." A reporter called the school to ask questions, but no one could give a satisfying answer. It wasn't a gas leak. It wasn't something in the water. It wasn't a prank.
It was just laughter.
The kind that comes from nowhere and means nothing and changes everything.
Years later, the students who had been there would tell the story to friends, to roommates, to their own children. They would say, "One day in third grade, the whole school just started laughing. Nobody knew why. It lasted all day. It was the best day of my life."
And the person listening would smile and say, "That can't be real."
And the person telling the story would smile back and say, "It was. It really was."
Tommy Peters grew up to be a perfectly ordinary man with a perfectly ordinary job. But every now and then, in the middle of a meeting or standing in line at the grocery store, he would feel a little fizz in his chest — warm and bubbly, like a shaken soda bottle with the cap still on. And he would smile for no reason at all.
Mrs. Henderson taught for another fifteen years before she retired. On her last day, a student asked her what her favorite memory from teaching was. She didn't hesitate.
"There was this one Tuesday," she said. "The whole class just started laughing. I don't know why. I still don't know why. But I laughed too. And it was the most wonderful thing."
Vice Principal Rosenblum never did find her other shoe.
She didn't mind.
As for the giggle epidemic itself, it remains one of those small, sweet mysteries that a town holds close to its heart. Not because it was important. Not because it changed the world. But because, for one perfect day, the entire town of Mayfield remembered something that most people forget:
Laughter doesn't need a reason.
It just needs a place to land.
Love Gift No. 3
By Blurt Snodgrass
A visual love gift. No words needed. Just light.
Love Gift No. 4
By Blurt Snodgrass
A visual love gift. No words needed. Just light.
A Love Gift from Blurt Snodgrass.
Give it to someone. It's free. That's the point.