None of us had been to the movies in a while, not going to any multiplex since early last summer. This was also the first time the four of us had been together since I moved to Harrisburg, and going to see a well-received family movie like “The Incredibles” seemed like an appropriate outing for some of that ever-diminishing family time. We were all entertained by the movie, jokingly making ourselves superheros as we exited the theatre. It was no longer raining as it had been when we first left for the movie, but my dad still passed the umbrella for me to hold. When I wondered why, my sister remarked that I must be Umbrella Boy, a pun that normally wouldn’t muster more than a smirk of appreciation to the reference.
Instead, the moniker struck my dad as incredibly funny, and he immediately burst into laughter. We would repeat the name of my new alter-ego just to see him continue laughing, which would happen without fail. My samuri swinging of the umbrella finally pushed him over the edge. There we were in the middle of a movie parking lot, my dad laughing so hard he had to bend his head down to regain his breath. By the time we reached the car, he had to wipe tears from his face, which I think is around Level 7 on the laughter scale.
I saw my dad laugh a lot during my brief trip home. He’s always had that sarcastic edge that I’ve been fortunate enough to inherit, and when we’re put together in the same room, it can be very dangerous, particularly for my mom, who can at times be taken aback by our sarcastic remarks. After one particular episode that ended with my mom calling my dad an asshole, leading him to again cover his face in laughter, my mom returned to me and said that my dad laughs a lot more when I’m home. On a drive a few days later my dad admitted that very fact, that he laughs a lot more when I come home. I felt similarly, realizing that I was much more upbeat, energized, humorous, and humored during my trip away from Harrisburg.
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