My mother loves to laugh. Not quips, but ache-with-joy bouts of woman howling. Her giggle is a siren song that ripples out and grabs you. This is a foto of her last year in October the day after my first round of chemo. I drove her to the lighthouse. She’d arrived the week before and had no time for sightseeing, unless you consider daily trips to the cancer center a tourist activity. I shuffled around the beachfront, but she climbed right up on the rocks and walked along the jetty. When a man offered to help her down safely, she started to laugh. And then he laughed and I laughed and his wife laughed and the sound swelled around us and broke open the sky.