Tonight, I laughed. I laughed with my mouth wide open as heat reached my cheeks and my belly started to ache. I laughed in good company, and I noticed my laughter. It was particularly noticeable because I was captured on camera. I witnessed my own joy, and I wish I could have caught it in my hands and tucked it into a jar for a difficult day.
A Zoom family sing along helped to kick off winter break. Nana played the piano. We sang Christmas carols out of tune, unable to match our voices to the tempo of the piano notes. Let’s just say melody was lacking. But, laughter was not. You see, we decided that it might be a great idea to sing The Twelve Days of Christmas. Coincidentally, there were twelve singers available. So, we got started with assigning roles. The question was Are we each taking a verse or chiming in every time a number is in the lyrics? At first, this was a quiet thought. Each singer was assigned a number in the chat box. Then, the chaos kicked in. We were talking over each other with questions, which turned into laughter interrupting the next question. After what seemed like too long, we finally agreed that we would each be responsible for our number’s line each time it appeared in the lyrics. Easy, right?
Seven different households. Twelve different voices. A singing critic playing the keys. We were too fast or too slow and most definitely always off key. We had to pause just to erupt with laughter at the end of each verse. Each time, however, our rhythm got stronger. We gathered together to sing, but what mattered most was the laughter.
Recently, most days feel heavy as I carry the loss of my brother and pressure to nudge learners forward in a hybrid model. Tonight, however, I witnessed my own joy. I wish I could have caught it in my hands and tucked it into a jar for a difficult day.