Dear Wigleaf,

Lately, I've been thinking about laughter. Loud and abrupt, giggly and giddy, breathless and red-faced, I'd take any of it. For something to be truly funny, to hit you deep and take over your senses—that's what I'm searching for these days. When's the last time you really and deeply laughed?

In my family, laughter is an inherited gene. My mother gave birth to three daughters, each big-footed and tender-hearted, and all with her laugh. It's not one of those trademarked laughs you can hear; instead, it's silent and squinting, with tears falling and gasping breath. It's the kind of laugh that needs context, because joy bubbles so closely to sadness. Anyone could walk into the room and not know what kind of reaction we're having, as we reach for tissues, noiseless in our togetherness.

Because that's the thing about a really good laugh, isn't it? It's circumstance, but it's also company. The kind of thing you don't realize is a luxury until suddenly it is.  

It would be great if I could end this postcard on a joke, wouldn't it? Oh, well. Wishing you laughter regardless.

Yours,
Cortney