Talking to my mother today and rediscovering why I feel like a child. She feels the same. It must be in the genes, this self-contained ping-pong match of children's thinks.

Atop all things I am most proud of the ways I make her laugh. I have always been proud of the giggle fits and chortles I draw from her. Some nights I laugh myself to sleep at things she laughed at 25 years ago. Man o man the garbage bag murder makes me laugh to sickness before I can even finish typing this sentence.

Her mind is strong, where the rest of her is not. Her laugh is hearty where the rest of her is not.

And, just like a girl, she ended the conversation by saying she wanted to talk again, to talk more.