The Carousel Ride

As a little girl, my favorite ride at the fair was the carousel. I would carefully pick the most beautiful horse to sit upon. They were always painted in the most brilliant colors with manes and tails streaming in an unseen wind. I'd grab the reins, waiting in gleeful anticipation for the calliope music to begin. I would wave to my mom as the first notes of music sounded and the horse began rise and fall. Those kind were my favorites. The ones where the horses would go up and down, up and down. It was the greatest feeling in the world. Going round and round, up and down, in circles, faster and faster until all the world was a blur.

When the music stopped, everyone would slide off the backs of their gallant steeds that had given them the greatest ride of their lives. What nobody ever let on, what was never told, is that when the music stopped, we were all dizzy. All of sudden that great ride had an unanticipated side effect. We'd try to stay steady on our feet, but we would sway, and even bump into the now lifeless mounts. Eventually though we all regained our equilibrium and stepped onto solid ground.

Yesterday my carousel ride came to an end. There is a void in the air around me that was once filled to overflowing with pipe organ music. Sounds penetrate but they seem foreign because I couldn't hear them before. I'm standing on the platform, dizzy and swaying, hoping to once again step on solid ground without anyone knowing how much I've lost my balance.