Gasping for Air

As a child, I’d watch my father make my mother laugh until she couldn’t breathe; which often led to a diptych of snorts. She’d plug her nose in hopes of deterring other snorts from escaping, but this would leave her gasping for air. My father’s funny. His humor is palpable, but as a child I realized my mother thought he was exponentially funnier than he really was. And this annoyed me.

Flash forward 20 years. JD makes me laugh with the same vigor my mother does with my father. And this annoys me. Not because of the whole snorting thing, but because I know JD isn’t that funny. We’ve had countless conversations citing the stagnant silence that follows his jokes at dinner parties or the piercing looks I give him when he cracks a stale joke around strangers. Microphones are left in comedy clubs for a reason, JD!

The fact of the matter, however, still remains: I think JD’s funny. Like drop-my-jaw-and-bellow funny. His humor nestled itself inside the deepest part of my soul and I just sorta get him. It’s because of this I asked him to take a few pictures of me yesterday. A new headshot was requested for the Free to Succeed Tour, so I turned to the one person I knew could make me be me in front of the camera.

I’m seriously just plain awful in front of the camera (which is really embarrassing to admit), but after 683 frames, JD captured a few that may work. May being the operative word. Instead of throwing all the heinous pictures away, I kept a few because I want to remember what I look like when JD makes me laugh. I want to grow old and never forget the indelible impression he leaves on my soul…and what I look like when I'm gasping for air.