All of us have lived through tragic or tragically absurd events. When I was younger, I think I was much better at crafting these into ludicrous stories to be shared at dinner parties for the amusement of others. I could make people laugh. I was no comedienne, but in a self deprecating retelling, I could elicit a giggle or two. Somehow over the years I stopped; motherhood and marriage having fractured my ability to deliver a good punch line.
Recently, I struck up a friendship with a coworker that has revived some sense of being humorous. Honestly, she is the funny one. I may be hysterical – and yes with its multiple meanings – but she is a riot. She delivers single ironic lines with aplomb, but truly she excels at the engaging retelling of some tragic event. From describing her casket-making hometown to marital trials and tribulations, I haven’t laughed this hard in years. It feels good. For that I am thankful.