He sits on his grandfather’s knee, looking up at him. A little giggle bursts from his lips. At first it is hesitant like a question. Then it comes again and again until his laughter is uncontrollable. Generations stretch between them like string. If you took the ends of that string and held them together, you would have this moment where there is no time between them at all. They speak the same language of glinting eyes and smiles. The laughter becomes contagious, and soon they both are lost to it. We in the room are not privy to the joke of face wiggles and snorts, but soon we too are laughing to see them laugh – to see how joy has caused time to lapse on itself. If only we could stay in this moment longer, all together, as three generations. The memory will be kept here to be brought out later, like the string, which is old and worn and continuously unwinding.