Locked in Laughter

Feeling.

More like not feeling.

Numb, in the best way a human can be.

Walking down a trail, the sun setting. Casting harsh, beautiful shadows of the brush surrounding us. The sound of the birds’ wings cutting through the air. You, just in front of me. In your raggedy old cutoff jean shorts. I love those jean shorts. Toned calves, that simple mountain tattoo that circled your ankle. Your sweat-stained hat.

Deep thoughts. Sarcastic conversation.

I respond to something you said with a lame joke.

Without breaking your stride, you turn to me suddenly. Sun beams illuminating the dust kicked up by your feet. And in one fail swoop, your arm wraps around the small of my back, pulling me to you with a grin on your face and a passion in your arm. Your free hand wraps gently around the side of my jaw and the back of my neck. Pulling my face to yours in a kiss that was really more giggle than kiss, from both of us. Lips, locked in laughter. Locked in happiness.

I lived in that moment for a long time. The world slowed. The dust slowly settled to the ground. The light caught the edge of your smile as you pulled away. It was as if I was a spectator. Happily living in that moment, not sure if I was actually a part of it. Numb to the world around me.

Floating on the sound of your laugh.

And the way it harmonized with mine.