The laughter.

Wednesday, July 27, 2016.


It was Monday…  Did you know that Mondays are my favorite day of the week? (snicker).  In some ways, that’s true.  There is nothing quite like a crisp Monday morning, getting ready for work, readying oneself for the day and even the entire week.  Like a promise of the good fortune of being able to say that ones life involves work, unlike some areas of the earth.  Can you imagine what it must be like to wake up, worrying about bombing?  Wishing that you could just get dressed, make breakfast, kiss your loved ones, then be on ones way…to “life”?  Instead, you are worried about if there is even a grocery store or even your roof left?  And your prayers would be much different, would they not?  Dear G~d, please keep my house safe?  May we find a smile somewhere, may it start with me…

Or maybe, we are all the same…

A young lady shared this with me:  She had an audio recording on her phone of her fiancee’s laughter.  I began to tear up, realizing how long it had been since I heard a man’s laughter, a shared laugh glued between two people with love like an understood joke which never dies.  Perhaps that is even better than the much publicized and sought after flames of amore.  And I waved off her apologies. “No, no!” I pleaded with her to keep sharing that moment when she recorded his laugh because it showed not only the bond between them but the absence of any malice, rudeness, mockery or misunderstanding.  No, the sound was delicious in both its presence and its absence.  It was pure fun.


I was reminded over the weekend of laughter when I met a high school friend and her husband at the fair, along with another high school friend and my son.  Of course they thought it equally as delicious to fill his ears with ancient stories he had not heard before thus doing double duty of our laughter at the recollection and his snickering at his growing collection of information of his mother.  And we all laughed.  We laughed without malice, rudeness, or misunderstanding. We laughed to laugh.  (Heck, we had the lady at the next picnic table chiming in!)

Laughter.  Twice in two days!  Just to laugh or just to listen to another’s beloved laugh, watching her smile with a woman’s joy.  It was good, to hear a man’s laugh, a man’s laugh tailor made for his woman.  His laugh was hers.  It truly was a beautifully simple moment to tuck away with my own grateful tears.  That. That there. That exists, even for one moment.  It exists.

*That was Monday – but you know what I found?  The laughter was infectious. In the following two days I found myself infected with a bit of “Oh, what the h@#%”  And I laughed.  I remembered a piece of myself which I had guarded, determined that I would not be the one to reach out for a hand to hold or a kiss or touch or laughter as I had when I was married.  I would not become the relationship guru, infusing love, starlight, laughter and a dash of chaotic madness just for the sheer joy of it all…

Well, that is just not me!  Just goes to show a person will never know what gets unearthed when others share their love and joy with the world.  The young woman’s recording of “her man’s” laughter with her response of love in her eyes reminded me not only of what is valuable in a relationship but what is valuable in me.


Well I have also had numerous doses of ‘eat my pride’.  Turns out, the 12 minute flail has turned into my own little sweet recipe for success.  I have found the twelve minute flailing of exercise in the morning (which I have yet to fully incorporate into a schedule), was really a primer in how I can get myself to get things done.  And I have.  Twelve minutes.  If I break up any task into twelve minute chunks, then circle through a few dissimilar activities, each in twelve minute intervals, I get things done.

So what?  So what, Steph, does this have to do with anything?

Well, I find it quite beautiful….to get things done…



PS. Mondays? Favorite day.  Tuesday is Tuesday – everyone needs Tuesday.  Wednesday is like my mini Friday.  Thursday is like Saturday. Friday needs no explaining. Saturday is Saturday… Then, Sunday.  My favorite day.  Oops… ok, Monday.  Second favorite day….(snicker…I call this schedule… “logic!”)

Unearthing laughter and unearthing a hydrangea I transplanted twenty years ago..  How did it survive?

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