We woke up on Christmas morning to a mantle of quiet whiteness: snow, finally.
Ben and Wayne made each other laugh so many times.
I got to sleep under the softest down comforter, on top of the firmest futon mattress, in the dark basement, surrounded by boxes and boxes of stuff we are organizing as a Christmas gift for my mama.
My uncle Steve said something particularly hilarious, and I watched as my dad, overcome with funniness, sank to his hands and knees, then picked himself back up, eyes still squinted and mouth still open in a full-lunged bout of laughter. One of my favorite things is watching my dad laugh, and there is no one that can get him going quite like his little brother Steve.