Laughter

I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard, so many times in one day. And I'm not talking about the sympathetic giggle directed toward an excruciatingly awful joke, or the contrived chuckle one forces while trying to act amused as someone rambles on about something neither remotely funny nor amusing. I'm talking about the cackling, snorting, wheezing, crying, ugly, I-need-to-hold-onto-this-chair-for-dear-life kind.

The first time was in English class with YB. She has taken on the admirable feat of learning how to Snapchat; a couple classmates and I were showing her the ropes. I had the fantastic idea of demonstrating the face-swap feature- and I can't unsee what appeared on the screen shortly after that decision. We both stared- brains in utter turmoil and mouths agape- for a few seconds, but it didn't take long for the whole-hearted laughter to erupt from within us. In the midst of a seemingly perpetual state of hilarity, words were replaced by incomprehensible sounds and mature motor skills were replaced by those of a four year old. I legitimately had to hobble back to my seat because my legs had forgotten how to walk cooperatively without stumbling over one another. Safe to say that she was meant for her own face, and I was meant for mine. 

The next- I don't know- 5 times were shared with one of my oldest (I don't mean age) and most cherished friends. Her ratio of intelligence-to-goofiness is perfectly harmonious like the sweet-to-sour ratio of Sour Patch Kids. She dares to ask the questions that no one will ask. She's genuine and kind-hearted. And she makes me laugh like nobody's business.

Lounging in the passenger seat of her fourth generation Nissan, I played a throwback song that I knew would get us absolutely pumped to study for bio. The beat moved us in the same strange ways, and our jovial dance party morphed into a repetitious choreography (consisting of whips, nae naes, and all that jazz) (judge me, I dare you). And I lost it. We lost it.

Sitting across from my dear friend at the cafe where we often do homework together, the silence was almost distracting. Only the occasional slurp of a latte or cough of a diligent student disturbed the pattern of emptiness. Simultaneously, as if we were interconnected in that moment, she and I looked up and into each other's eyes. That was it. We were done for. She covered her face with her hoodie and I bit my tongue, both in efforts to suppress the explosions that were rising within us like the scorching lava of an active volcano. But the pressure was too much, and laughs from deep within our bellies exploded from our throats. We lost it- again.

I appreciate days like this. Days where I am overcome with so much joy and wholeness that it nearly brings me to my knees. Where I sit at my computer to journal and have to selectively chose which blissful moments of my day to include in my writing. And as I reflect on today's series of hysterical events, I take into account all that I have learned: your English teacher is blessed to have her face, dance parties are good for the soul, and no reason to laugh is reason enough.