I Heard My Daughter Laugh and It Hurt Me

Dear Delyara, She was upstairs with a friend on FaceTime. That bright, effortless kind of laugh came through the ceiling, the kind that rises from somewhere still unbroken by years of managing things. I stopped in the hallway and listened to it for a moment longer than I needed to. It made me happy. It also made me ache. Because I remember that kind of laughter. Or maybe I remember the version of myself who used to laugh like she was still arriving at life instead of carrying it. I’m grateful my daughter still has it in her. I’m just sad about how rarely I do. I kept standing there with a laundry basket in my arms, listening to joy through the ceiling like it belonged to someone I loved very much and missed a little too.