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.

"My Hair Is So Now"

"I got bangs! My hair is so now." From Legally Blonde.

Why do we women feel the need to cut our hair when there is major change in our lives? Well, I don't know about everybody else, but I do at least. I've cut, permed, styled, clipped, and grown men out of my life. It never fails. Oh, I say, "this time I'm not going to change my hair." But, I always do. Why?

The psychologist/psychiatrist in me says it is because I have control of my hair. By changing my hair, I've controlled something when I feel I've lost control. I wasn't the one that caused my life to go in a different direction and changing my hair is the easiest way to take back control.

Oh, there are other things I can control...like that 30 extra pounds I gained when I quit smoking. Those bad boys are the next thing to go. Then there's my clothes. A new wardrobe isn't sounding so bad right now. I've even thought about re-arranging the house. New furniture in my future?

Whatever the surface reason may be, deep down, I think we do it because we want to feel pretty when a bit of ugliness has invaded our lives. I feel pretty today because, "I got bangs!"

The Closet

A few days ago I started going through things you left in the closet. Things not important to you anymore. Of course there is the clothes I've washed and hung. I left them there because you said you would return and we would be a family again...someday. Now someday will never come. There's magazines you insisted be saved, but have no importance to me. Wires, cables, and computer components of all sorts. I have not a clue what they're for, but you needed them.

All of these things, while they hold memories of us...together, they are not important. I continue the dig, because you've said the house is mine to do with as I will. I find much of the same, adding old shoes to the pile. My how you wore shoes out quickly. Then down at the bottom, at the very back, there is a box. I box full of video tapes. I know some of these contain the birth of our children, their subsequent birthdays, and Christmases we celebrated together. Which is which? I have no idea. Are some from an old job? Probably. How can I find out? Again, I'm at a loss. You took the video camera with you. Not the memories, but the memory maker. Something for you to make new memories and leave the old ones behind. Just like you left us.

Yes, I know. I know all about it. You're engaged. You didn't want me to know, but I do. You're starting a new family. You're going to take your all important memory maker and make new memories. At the very least a new wife. I wonder, will there be new birth videos? Probably. Probably sooner than later. All these new memories you will be making and all the old ones, us, me and the kids. We're in a box, on the floor, in the back of the closet.

So, now I have piles of discarded possessions. Things not important to you. I've decided to have a sell. A "Kicking Him To The Curb" sell. Everything goes. well, except the memories. Those I will keep, because you don't even remember that they exist.