I left my hometown with a lost manicure, a gained sense of clarity and a peeled avocado.

When my mom asked if I wanted to bring anything with me on my flight up to San Francisco, I replied that I’d happily take the rest of the avocado I cut into knowing my mom would leave it neatly on the top shelf of her fridge, untouched. I planned to throw the three-quarters remaining into a Ziplock and then throw that into my weekender bag for a nice addition to my already overpriced FiDi lunch later that day.

I run to the bedroom to get my always-forgotten charger and come back to the kitchen to find my mom hovering over the green fruit with a butter knife peeling the thick skin like it was a potato. My heart melted as I put my arms around her robed shoulders and told her it’s good to go as-is and that the pit keeps the fruit fresh. Bless. My mom looked defeated and I loved her even more (if that’s possible) in that moment because at 5am, pre-coffee and post-short night’s sleep, she was meal-prepping my avocado the best way she knew how. You damn-well bet that mashed up avocado went in my savory oatmeal and then later went on toast for my soup. It was magical and I smiled squeezing the now brown chunks from all sides of that Ziplock bag.

My short trip home for Mothers Day weekend was nothing short of moments like this. It’s always wonderful returning home to my family but this time especiallly. We lost a mother – my sister – last year and this year we felt her absence. More than ever, we needed each other and to be there for one another emotionally. My dad greeted my mom with a cinnamon basket – a beautiful container filled with all things her favorite spice and smell. We made cinnamon rolls together and took pictures with sticky fingers and smiling eyes. We talked about relationships and where our hearts are at and where we want them to be. We ate good food, laughed real hard and hugged tightly.

That weekend we remembered my maternal grandmother amid the spiraled dough and carmelized pan-scrapings. This wonderful woman who I never met gave me my mom – the strong, heart-driven survivor she shows me to be every day. I still think of my paternal grandmother with complete adoration and I’ve missed her since she lost a battle with Alzheimer’s when I was ten. This fiercely spirited giggler pinned her hair in curls in her 80s and touched her ten toes and recited the names of her ten children daily.

My parents have always been a prime example of heart and the importance of genuinely loving who you’re with and the proof is in the pudding – they laugh. A lot. I think my friends are more attune to my inherited laughter than I am. When I tell them how much my sister laughs, they ask if she got it from me when really – I think my sister has pretty much single-handedly taught the world how to laugh. Even if you have no clue what she’s laughing at, you can’t help but join in.

Laughter is important AF. To me it’s my way of introduction to people old and new, it’s bonding time, connection and just fun. There have been moments in my life where I have devalued this part of me – dismissing it being “silly” or simply extra credit. I’m choosing to embrace laughter as a pivotal part of who I am and who I want to surround myself with. Yes, it’s one part of what a person can bring to any relationship, but it’s an important one. My parents haven’t always had it easy, but they’ve had laughter and love to carry them through.

I’ve tried to think how this force impacts me – why is it that this simple action has such a profound impact? What about those squinty eyes and belly vibrations resonate deep within my soul? We laugh because something got to our core. Something proved to be true or its truth was brought to light in a way that wasn’t immediately obvious. Laughter uncovers something and tickles us in some way. Perspective is shifted, changed, or introduced. It makes me feel alive, free, open and truly me.

I’ve recently been super in-touch with this laughter and it’s felt great. Being home made me realize that this is what my family is good at and something I want more of in my life. My barista asked one morning, “do you smile this much at work?” to which I honestly replied…absolutely. It makes me think that if this lightness is really that infectious subconsciously, how infectious would it be to make a conscious effot to surround myself with people who make me feel in touch with this side of myself becuase they themselves contain that light and bring it out in me?

2017 was all about being light. And it’s taken me half of 2018 to figure out that this year, I want to invite the light in.