The laughter was loud, infectious and reassuring.
Ian and his brother, Alex, had gone upstairs after dinner to join a video call with his music classmates and teacher. Frankly, neither was enamored with the idea, but it did get them out of doing the dishes after Rebecca made another delicious “quarantine” meal.
As the adults cleaned up the kitchen, we could hear the boys join the call. Then, Ian’s resonant laugh echoed down the stairwell. Rebecca looked at me with that “I told them they would enjoy it” smirks and went about loading the dishwasher. I scrubbed plates and pots and listened as chatter and laughter filled the air. I smiled to myself, happy that my boys were enjoying themselves.
Ian’s laughter is contagious. We can be at the dinner table or in the sitting room watching Arrested Development or a James May show and Ian will lose it and when he starts, it’s hard for him to stop. I often have to rewind something we are streaming so we can see the hilarious bit again and again.
Alex is the quiet one. His emotions are visible in his facial expressions. Other than that, he doesn’t break down in gut-busting laughter like his brother. Still, he loves a joke and I like to think he appreciates the bad Dad jokes I lob at his expense.
After nearly a month of being locked down at home, I am pleasantly surprised at how well the boys have adjusted to this so-called “new normal”. Still, I worry. I worry that Ian, who is 18, will miss out on graduation and other senior year memories. I worry that Alex, who is 16, will miss out on track and his goal of becoming a pole vaulter.
Thanks to Rebecca, we have tried to structure things in the household so we don’t lose our sanity or slip into a laziness that saps our energy and our health. The boys have been great helping out with projects around the house. They continue to practice their instruments - trumpet for Ian and French horn for Alex - despite the fact they cannot play at state solo and ensemble festivals this year.
I’m fortunate to still be employed, though, I am increasingly stir crazy to get back into the manufacturing environment. I have a nice home office and do enjoy hearing the sounds of the family and our two lovable dogs, but I yearn to get back to the plant floor and see my friends at work.
Rebecca gave up teaching - college English and writing - after Ian was born and is the CEO of the Wickham household. In addition to keeping the Wickham boys in line and focused, she is the primary caregiver for her mother, who is 86 and has lived with us for nearly 14 years. Rebecca is not a health care professional, but she has developed keen chops as a patient advocate and whether it is ensuring mom has taken her meds or tending to me after I have done something stupid, she has been the foundation of this household.
As for my mother-in-law, she is a Depression-era baby. She has lived through wars, economic prosperity, the oil embargo, 9/11 and now a pandemic. Her life and her freedom are turned upside down. She spends time each day on the phone with family, but we know that is not enough.
On Easter Sunday, we surprised her with a virtual dinner, where family called in from near and far. I think this is the first Easter dinner where I barely touched my food as we talked, laughed and could actually see each other on the big screen in our garden room. It was chaotic and fun, especially when mom made an innocent comment and Ian rolled off the couch laughing hysterically.
Yes, that laugh. Like a barometer or a crystal ball, that laugh tells me if things are going well. I can breathe a bit easier and hope that we can make it through this period with our sanity and health, but also our hopes and dreams fairly intact.
There are days when the laughter is forced. Sometimes we just want to be away from each other. We have a large enough house where we can each find our place of solitude but even that is not enough. Going for a short walk and listening to the birds or sitting outside on the patio offer some solace. Still, I feel best when we are together, listening to Ian laugh and then losing ourselves in the hilarity of the moment.
To laugh is to live.
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