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My daughter was one month old. She was asleep. She opened her eyes, looked around her tiny crib, and began to laugh; not just a giggly baby’s laugh; no, this was a full-fledged belly laugh, the kind of laugh where you snort milk out of your nose. What, exactly, was she laughing at? 

We are born, but we don’t know where we come from. We don’t know where we’re going after we die. We live our lives with this uncertainty, this mystery. We cope. We cry, we fear, we blush, we wonder. We feel love, jealousy, arousal, hurt, hopelessness, despair, betrayal. Yet we laugh. 

For me, I think that writing is a way of sharing all of these feelings so that I have some company, as together we all head into this unknown.