Belly Laughs

October 4, 2024

on a plane

I haven’t laughed in a while. Like really laughed. The laugh that hurts my stomach. The laugh that when I try to speak nothing comes out and the only thing you can hear is the sound of our hands slapping the ground or our knees or each others arms. It used to be so common but my best friends moved away and I realized my mom wasn’t near to give me a hug, and I didn’t play in sprinklers anymore, and work doesn’t give us recess, and my brothers are too far away for me to bother. My laughs have been replaced by tears and I hold myself back from telling my friends that I miss them, even knowing that they could die tomorrow, because why haven’t they called me yet?  So more people pass through my life like the train that barrels through my small town, quaking everything surrounding its path. And my stomach always hurts and it’s never from laughing.