I love how you make me laugh.
Like . . . love, love it.
You get that gleam in your eye—the one that could light up a city block, and I know what’s coming next.
I know I’m about to absolutely adore every word you deliver in that perfect execution of yours.
I know the muscles on my face and in my stomach are about to hurt in an eager kind of way.
I know I’m going to fall in love with you all over again.
Right then. Right there.
Really, it isn’t just the words. Don’t get me wrong, they are a 1,000-times kind of awesome and relevant and witty.
But, it’s also how you so often and strategically bring the funny when I’ve had a difficult day. When things just haven’t come easy. Whether I’ve been cleaning up vomit, or I’ve been trying to impart some important truth to a child. Or maybe something I cooked, that I imagined to be delicious and decadent, turned out more meh.
You have a joke for everything in that repertoire of yours that feels so tailor-made for me. And it isn’t just the tough days that I so very much fall into your enticing humor.
It’s the everyday.
The funny one-liner you call over your shoulder as you leave for work. The videos and memes you take the time to send my way during your bus ride. The rise and fall of your shoulders as you laugh at your own joke and pass the potatoes over the dinner table. The way you have to pause a fantastically hilarious line during a beloved show—just so we can both laugh and truly experience a moment together. The way you pull me in close and whisper something that makes me grin in the dark. You don’t need the light to see and know my turned-up corners.
And those are the usual days.
The exceptionally good days?
You glow from the inside out, and all I can do is be grateful to God that I get to be the jelly to your peanut butter.
You sprinkle a bit of your light, sharing that humor and those sheepish eyes everywhere you tread.
And I’m not the only one you make laugh. Not even close.
To the kids, you equals fun. You are the good time. With you, their world is louder in the best of ways. Their world is bright and vivid and steeped in the most lovely ridiculousness. We hear the rumble of Dad’s car backing into the driveway and cheers ring through the house.
Sure, the kids get excited too. But that smile? Those jokes? That hearty laugh that speaks to and warms my heart?
God gave it to me.
He fashioned you together this way. In a way that has lit my world in very dark and sad times. In a way that has helped me navigate the stepping stones God has provided.
In a way that I’m a completely grateful woman, yet ruined and vulnerable. I’m ruined because I’m utterly expectant to laugh with my whole heart beneath the sun of our daily walks and over multiple freshly-brewed cups of coffee on the weekends.
And I’m vulnerable because I recognize my ruining. I will not sit on those thoughts very long. They could be an entirely different piece.
Instead, I will enjoy this raucous, God-given gift of mine. I will delight in that gleaming of your eye—you know, the one that could light up a city block and reveals what’s coming next.
Because I love how you make me laugh.
Like . . . love, love it.