I love to laugh and I love to make people laugh. I have a loud, authentic laugh that can be heard from across the room. It feels fantastic to laugh and I miss it when I’m feeling less than cheerful. Strangely, I don’t miss it until the moment I laugh again and realize it had been awhile. Then, I grab the moment and sound with two hands and hold it to my chest in an attempt to never lose it again.

My son laughs on a budget. It’s easy to see the laughter in his eyes but his laughter is as quiet and unassuming as he is. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him guffaw. I’ve only ever heard him snicker quietly and that may be the best we will ever get from him. That’s not say that it isn’t enough — it most certainly is. His laugh matches his personality. To know him well means knowing that an audible snicker is a joyous triumph. I snatch those sounds out of the air and hoard them like gold nuggets. I hear the sounds and I greedily search his dark brown eyes for the accompanying sparks.

My daughter uses laughter like unlimited vouchers. She laughs often and loudly. She laughs like I do and it pierces to the center of my heart to hear her barking laugh, even when it is at my own expense. I would gladly take a comedic tumble down a flight of stairs if only to hear her laughing from the top. I find my laughter within hers. To hear her laugh means I will soon be laughing too and I welcome it each time like a long lost friend.

Their humor is as different as night and day on the surface but identical for the bond that only a brother and sister can share. I watch them exchange things to amuse each other knowing I am an outsider to their humorous world. It doesn’t matter because their joy feeds mine. I watch their secret language like a tourist reading the road signs in a beautiful foreign land; lost but happy to see the sights. I will gladly serve as the butt of their jokes (and often do) just to know that their laughter will continue unabated for the rest of their lives.