3 Tries for 5 Dollars
There is something special about a corner carnival. Perhaps its the mix of flashing lights, rosy faces and a subtle feeling of danger. At any moment the ride could go flying off its tracks, taking us with it as it spins into the night sky. Scary, but magical too.
Tonight, with the brisk spring air biting into our cheeks, we brave the Ferris Wheel. Up, up, up high above the buildings and tree tops until the city is spread out beneath us in all its wonder. There is a cacophony of colors and shapes below us, while on the horizon the sky begins to fade, the clouds traced out with shadows. The lights on the rides begin to flare, competing for our attention.
I realize, dangling up there with the wind whipping by and my boy snuggled into my side (grinning), that I love Michigan. I love its changing seasons, each defined even as they blend into each other. I love the thick and sturdy trees, a million colors of green. I love its sky, its rain, its bursts of sun between. I realize, as the bucket rocks to and fro, that I'm going to miss living here.
Down we go, tumbling out at the bottom. Our eyes immediately search the sky, in awe that we were up there and now we're down here, amazed at how different things look from the ground. Down here it's dirtier, grittier, more crowded. No longer like birds, our feet on the ground, we set out in search of the next great height to conquer.
Inside we're still buoyant, inside we're still floating up high with the Ferris Wheel. Even as night drops it's curtain all around us, we're still flying.
Tonight, with the brisk spring air biting into our cheeks, we brave the Ferris Wheel. Up, up, up high above the buildings and tree tops until the city is spread out beneath us in all its wonder. There is a cacophony of colors and shapes below us, while on the horizon the sky begins to fade, the clouds traced out with shadows. The lights on the rides begin to flare, competing for our attention.
I realize, dangling up there with the wind whipping by and my boy snuggled into my side (grinning), that I love Michigan. I love its changing seasons, each defined even as they blend into each other. I love the thick and sturdy trees, a million colors of green. I love its sky, its rain, its bursts of sun between. I realize, as the bucket rocks to and fro, that I'm going to miss living here.
Down we go, tumbling out at the bottom. Our eyes immediately search the sky, in awe that we were up there and now we're down here, amazed at how different things look from the ground. Down here it's dirtier, grittier, more crowded. No longer like birds, our feet on the ground, we set out in search of the next great height to conquer.
Inside we're still buoyant, inside we're still floating up high with the Ferris Wheel. Even as night drops it's curtain all around us, we're still flying.
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