Baby’s first laugh.
90 year olds, married 70 years, who still make each other laugh.
Someone reading, quietly and alone, who startles everyone with a burst of laughter.
A date. Two people. Comfortable and laughing easily with one another. No pretense. Just full belly laughing.
A surprise snort in the middle of a friend’s laugh.
Laughing in church. And not being able to stop.
Laughing at something that happens. And laughing about it twenty years later.
Not laughing at something. And laughing at it the next day. And every time you think of it, for the rest of your life.
Laughing at five year olds telling their first ‘knock knock’ joke.
Hearing someone else laugh and not being able to help yourself. You start laughing. Not knowing why.
Being terribly sad. And having someone who knows you well enough to know which word to say to you to make you laugh. And you do.
Laughing until the tears run.
The first time you laugh at a memory of someone you just lost. And it giving you comfort.
Giving someone else a reason to laugh.
And laughing with them.