What I Remember the Most is the Laughter

I stood in the doorway and saw the bed up against the wall with the trundle pulled out.  She was on the top bed and I was on the bottom bed laughing hysterically until Uncle Jacky opened the door and told us he wasn't going to come in and tell us to be quiet again.  We had our last warning.

She rolled off and landed with a thump right on top of me and we hid our faces in the pillow and giggled until our tummies hurt.

I saw the bowl with left over Ranch Style bean juice and an almost-gone loaf of bread by the cute little bread warmer.  Warm Mrs. Baird's bread and Ranch Style bean juice.  That was our snack of choice for movies; unless the movie was scary - then I ate chips to crunch out the music and screams.  Her screams.  I didn't scream because I had a pillow over my eyes and chips in my mouth so I only knew it was a scary part when I saw her mouth wide open.

I saw our clothes all over the floor from countless changes and an ironing board used to iron her curly hair flat.

I saw it all.  Transported back 35+ years, taking it all in.  I imagine often what our reunion will be like when she meets me at the gate.  Oh, sweet.

I really miss her.  The laughing uncontrollably in the corner of the racketball court or at the bowling alley bent over the ball thingy holding our stomachs.

Sure, we had our share of crying spells.   We were girls, for heaven's sake.  But what I remember the most is the laughter.  So much laughter.

Every time I go back I look for her.

That night, standing in that door, I saw her.