And make us forget everything else, even on the days we thought we no longer knew how to laugh like that
Today I stayed home with my oldest son. He didn’t go to school. His foot was hurting, and I thought it would be better to keep him close, resting, and see if the pain would go away. Since I’m working from home, it became one of those slower days. Between emails, cuddles, cartoons, legos scattered across the floor, and little pauses for hugs. Extra affection.
A little while ago I needed to go pick up a package from a shop nearby. I carried him in my arms and we slowly walked down the street together. And that’s when something so simple happened… but it stayed with me.
Suddenly we started laughing. For no particular reason. Or maybe for the best reason of all: simply being there together.
It wasn’t one of those small laughs that appear and disappear. It was the real kind. Uncontrollable. Contagious. The kind where one person starts laughing and the other can’t stop either. And then the first one laughs even harder just because the other is laughing too. And it keeps growing. And growing. Until your stomach hurts. Until neither of you even knows exactly what you’re laughing about anymore, but it doesn’t matter at all.
We laughed so much that we ended up without strength in our legs. In our arms. Unable to keep walking.
So we sat down right there on the ground, on the Portuguese cobblestone sidewalk. Just the two of us. In the middle of the street. Looking at each other and laughing with all our hearts. As if nothing else in the world existed in that moment.
And for a few seconds, I really think nothing else did.
There was only the two of us. The sound of his laughter. His eyes squinting from laughing so hard. His tiny hands holding onto mine. His messy hair. And my heart completely full.
And in that moment I realized something beautiful: I can still laugh like this. Even in the middle of this difficult chapter. In the middle of the decisions, the grief, the fear, and the rebuilding… there are still moments when happiness catches me by surprise.
Meanwhile, while we were sitting there, an older man walked past us. He looked at the whole scene and smiled too. And as he crossed paths with us, he simply said:
“That’s what love looks like. And it’s beautiful. I hope it always stays that way. Wishing you happiness.”
And then he kept walking. But he left those words with me.
Because sometimes we forget. In the middle of heavy seasons like this one. In the middle of chaos. Of change. Of deep pain. Of lives that didn’t turn out the way we imagined. We forget that maybe, in the end, this is what truly matters. These small perfect moments that arrive without warning. And love.
This love that is still here. Not romantic love. Not the idealized version we imagine in perfect lives. But this one. The real kind. Raw. Simple. The kind that lives in laughter in the middle of the street. In tiny hands wrapping around our necks. In children who still look at us as if we are the safest place in the world.
And maybe that’s true. Maybe the love that truly stays is this one. The kind that doesn’t leave. The kind that doesn’t depend on promises. The kind that remains even when everything else changes.
So many things in my life have changed over the past few months. So many things have broken apart. But when I look at moments like today, I realize that what truly matters is still intact.
Love didn’t go anywhere. Today I laughed for real. And I needed that so much.
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