In the lilt of Irish laughter, you can hear the angels sing.
It’s been twenty-two years since I’ve heard your laugh.
The big one. The booming outrageous laugh. The one that started deep in your chest and ricocheted off the back of your tongue and seemed to ride every available sound wave, filling a space. That one. I miss it. Every now and then I think I hear it. Faint and lingering. Distant. Haunting.
It’s been two hundred and sixty-four months since I’ve heard your laugh.
Your silent laugh, when you laughed so hard no sound could escape. You would sit there, shaking and turning colors. Strangers thought you were in distress. Remember when they stopped “Shear Madness” because someone in the cast thought you were having a heart attack? We had to explain – because you couldn’t pull your shit together – that you were just thoroughly enjoying the show and to please continue.
It’s been one thousand one hundred and forty-eight weeks since I’ve heard your voice.
So, we had some snow. Power is finally restored and the kids are back to school. The roads are still a little dodgy especially in Boston where some multi-lane roads are down to one lane. For the most part, folks are still working under the “We’re all in this together!” banner. That banner, however, is starting to wear a bit thin.
This morning I was driving Emma to school. Normally it takes me about 12-15 minutes. Today it took close to 45. Not getting into too much detail but so y’all can try to understand where we were, I drive down Center Street, through Hyde Square, make a left at Walden Street, right on Health and take Terrace around Mission Hill. Seems a weird way to get to Fenway but it really is the fastest way in the morning.
Jackson Square is a hot mess. What are normally three lanes of traffic is being squeezed into one and a half, and that’s being generous. This morning traffic was backed up to Sunnyside. Not backed up enough to turn around and try a different way but backed up enough. People were being pretty considerate of lights and not blocking intersections so it was all good.
Well it was until Pedestrian Woman! decided she was going to take a stand for pedestrians everywhere. So, she’s standing on the corner of Walden Street heading toward Hyde Square when she steps out from behind an eleven foot snow bank into the cross walk and then yells at the car in the cross walk since she, Pedestrian Woman!, has the right-of-way.