They are the only ones who can make me laugh. I am the only one who laughs at them. Two silly sisters with funny faces and big baby bellies like mine. Two who can wander the yard but stay here with me. Two encouraging sisters here to be my guide. From the floor, Rachel and Mary sit, waiting to play with me.

Their jokes are secrets. They send joyful jokes to my parents. They get taller and they get bigger and rattle the earth with their fearless feet and jump to the sky with their lengthy legs and never quite get there. This is why they’re silly.

Let one forget his reason for being, they’d all laugh hysterically like clowns at a kid’s birthday party, each laugh growing louder. Laugh, laugh, laugh they do when I sleep. They laugh.

When I am too old and too weak to keep laughing, when I am an angel in the ground, then it is I remember the laughs. When there is nothing left to laugh at in this house. Two who laugh despite despair. Two who cry and don’t forget to laugh. Two whose only reason is to make me laugh.