I have this way of being serious.
It goes with my sense of humor.
I’m neither ALL the time.
I get over the times when life get to be too much by laughing and making with the funny. It doesn’t hurt that I surround myself with some of the funniest people EVER to abuse “Ha” or “ROFL”.
It’s important at my core that I still laugh.
Not because I love Monty Python.
Or I have to believe that there is a deeper metaphysical meaning to Adam Sandler.
Even if the singing of Sarah Silverman brings me joy like no other.
I have to laugh because without it we would know that it really wasn’t me.
If I lost the ability to find humor I might as well have never left the hospital.
The four walls might have trapped me physically.
Never being able to smile would have been what held me captive.
It means so much to be able to make wisecracks on Twitter.
To giggle with my kids about an animal’s reproductive system on Mars. (don’t ask)
No one makes better sillies than my husband.
That is how we know the me that came home is the me that left.