This is another journal entry. We were suppoused to write it about a place. Any place at all. Somewhere we were happy, somewhere we were sad. Somewhere that mad us angry, somewhere that made us joyful. Somewhere we went on vacation, somewhere we went everyday. Just somewhere.
This is what I wrote.
One place I will always remember is the ENT, outpatient surgery, and library wings of Cincinnati Children’s Hospital. They hold good memories, and bad. A good one, the best, is from one day, about a week before the start of my ninth grade year. I traveled with mom, dad and Jonah to Cincinnati Children’s to see Dr. Shot, Jonah’s ENT. Once Dr. Shot saw Jonah and did a mini evaluation she was done with him, ready to talk to my mom about the upcoming surgery.
I had to take Jonah and do something with him. Dad was sitting in the waiting room, playing games on his HandHeld, so that wouldn’t keep Bug (Jonah’s pet name) busy. And he kept pointing out the door. He wanted to go. To leave. To be out of this place.
So for the next hour or so, we ran. Jonah was in his stroller and we ran up and down the wings, me pushing, him enjoying the ride. Back and forth, up and down, left to right, wherever. We stopped at the end, or when a doctor gave us a “you-ought-not-do-that” look. The whole time, the only sounds I remember were Jonah’s giggles.
Jonah doesn’t laugh like most people. His laugh is different, sticks out to everyone. He doesn’t laugh from his stomach, but it’s not from his nose either. The only way I can describe it is from the back of his throat. It’s almost like a bowl of rice crispies on steroids. It cracks and pops, very quick, and is always a giggle. There is no way for anyone who has never heard Jonah laugh to comprehend how it sounds. But I remember that day, the only day in the past year he has laughed so hard. The only day in the past year I have laughed so hard. I was breathless and sweaty. But I was content. Really and truly content. And there is no way I could ever forget that feeling.