a place to rest my thoughts |
The year turns around, like a child's merry-go-round . . . not the lights and sounds of a carousel, full of glitter and magic, but an every day merry-go-round, propelled by feet with bars to hold on tight against the motion. It moves slow a first, and then faster, until the world blurs and the riders get dizzy and close their eyes and let the forces take them. When I was very young, the year moved slow because everything I saw was new—I was surround by first steps and first new foods. I was a first child, one who played with a toy once to see what it did, and then abandoned it for something less predictable, like taking out the pans from the kitchen cupboards and laying them on the floor like primitive drums. Back then, the best thing of birthdays was cake, because we didn't often have sweets and the worst thing was they only happened once a year. To a child, who has so few years, time seems too long to go between birthdays, and new years are rewards that lead to new privileges—like a later bedtime. Time has robbed cake of its pleasure. I enjoy it, and don't begrudge the insulin, but too much sugar makes my teeth ache with the rest of my bones, and the best thing is that only one day a year, I am faced with the remembrance that I am growing continually older. The merry-go-round moving so quickly now that time moves in habitual monotones blurred and racing, and I am ready to close my eyes, lean back against the motion, and let go to see how far I can fly. line count: 40 Prompt: THE BEST OR WORST THINGS ABOUT BIRTHDAYS |