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Her Laugh

Her laugh. It echos through my mind as I sip my morning coffee. My Capper Compilation playlist floats into the morning sky and sneaks into neighbor’s windows. Maybe they are also swaying to the song, allowing her sultry voice to find those dark corners; Gently opening to the light she pours into every nook and cranny. Her laugh. It was giant. A shock wave that set off automatic responses of smiles to anyone in the room. Souls swelling two sizes in the presence of its thunderous timbre. Hospital bed, death bed, it didn’t matter. She was still on stage, still conducting the staff and focusing all of her energy to intimately connect to her audience. Under the hospital gowns and jammies, under the swollen skin and cancer, her soul waited in a mini skirt and heels with a guitar in hand- ready for her next adventure. Her laugh. In the darkest hours of our helplessness, she’d crack a joke about us and help us laugh at ourselves. She’d remind us of how strong she was and that it was going to be ok. It had been years, yet every moment for her was present. Like a meditation, she was reminding us to stay here with her. Now. Her laugh. It echos through my mind as I write these words. I don’t want to let her go, yet with a quiet nudge from inside, I know I never have to. She is all around me. From the Broncos sunrises to the Broncos sunsets, colors dancing like a painting she so beautifully concocted. She sways with me, she holds me and she laughs at me with gusto. Her laugh. At the nightclub of the Tree of Forgiveness, she’s put her guitar down to order a Whiskey neat. The bartender whispers something to her and her laughter fills the room. The far table filled with our tribe are already on their feet.

Save a seat for me. And don’t have ALL the fun before I get there, you crazy kids


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house at twilight photo: Adam James Henrickson 
Copyright 2018 Angie Stevens  |  All rights reserved