When I stepped outside to start the grill, the first sound I heard was the squeal of the lass, followed shortly by a shriek of excitement from the boy. They are sledding on the ice slush in the early Spring warmth and loving it.
I love moments like that because they have no idea I’m there listening. And the sounds of childhood coming from your child are like a sirens call casting a spell. You can’t resist the urge to go and see what they see; to laugh with them and enjoy their joy. You go there and watch them and see yourself through them; you remember what it was like before knowledge came into your life. Before bills and jobs and projects. You watch them and can’t help but smile as they frolic in whatever world they have conjured for themselves. And part of you wants desperately to join them in that world because it has to be better than the one we’re in.
But then they see you. The spell is broken. That world is gone. And as the high of their euphoria fades you realize: in this world you have them and their laughter, making it the best of all worlds.
One reply on “A Child’s Laugh”
I wish I could have been there to hear the laughter!