Sunday, November 25, 2007

Found

The majority of my time in Smith's Jordan house was spent at the end of the hallway of the 3rd floor. It was a gathering place filled with laughter and smiles (even during finals). My friends and I would discuss Communism, Capitalism, boys, girls, what was for dinner and well...anything. What I remember the most, however, was the carefree laughter that bounced off of the wallpapered walls.

When I graduated from college I found laughter in new locations - car cabins on road trips, the living room at 2167 Hayes, sunny days in the park, ski cabins...easy. Sometimes I'd laugh so hard I cried, even at little things that probably weren't that funny. It was easy.

Slowly, I don't know when, I started laughing less and less. Maybe it was long hours at work or more responsibility. Maybe it was higher rents or less company as the number of roommates decreased. Whatever it was, it was subtle. And whatever it was I could escape it, with laughter coming easily once again, like when with my Smith ladies on those rare long weekends in New York, San Francisco or Northampton.

I think it was at my 5th college reunion that I noticed a difference. While I enjoyed the company of my friends and chuckled at stories and things, that truly carefree laughter that consumes one wasn't there. I was constrained. No matter hard I tried, I couldn't let go. I couldn't laugh like I used to.

While there were many reasons for my decision to take a break from the life I had created for myself in San Francisco and embark on the adventure of a lifetime, finding my laughter was one of them. It's not really something I expressed to anyone, afraid that it may never come back. But, you'd never guess where it was...Laos.

In truth, it wasn't in Laos, of course - it was in me the whole time, just hiding. With the help of good company and a deep cleansing breath of total freedom, I found my laugh. It's unbridled. It's contagious. It's here again...and this time, I'm determined not to lose it.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

*smiles* perhaps now it will show up in the pictures of you again.

Anonymous said...

You are terrific! Aware way beyond your years. You make me proud and, yes, a little envious that I could have been more like you but didn't take the chances.

Love,
Dad