Carousel

I went to a wedding once as a child, the wedding was for a friend of my moms, a lovely woman named Kathleen. She was always the height of fashion and style. And she would sneak me candies when I was at my moms work. The reception was held at her parents house, out in the backwoods of Fallbrook or San Marcos or Del Mar. I was bored out of my mind as kids usually are at events that have nothing to do with them, that was until I spied something magical at the end of the property. Kathleen's parents had purchased years before the original carousel that use to sit at the end of the Oceanside pier, and now it resided down a small slope with a forest of trees surrounding it.

I walked between those old tired and worn out horses and sea monsters and sled chairs. There were crunchy leaves beneath my feet and spiderwebs hanging from the poles. But it was in an entirely different world then the very 80's party that was above me at the house. This carousel was a time machine to the beach and sun and sand and bathing suits not made with spandex. It was a piece of my local history, resting quietly away from the sea, slowly rotting into the forest around it. The carousel was divided into four different seasonal themes. There were horses with garlands of spring flowers permanently woven through their manes, and Tigers with snow clotted on their paws and holly on their backs.

I think of that carousel sometimes, of how the wood was weathered and the paint pealing, but if I tried only a little bit I could see it as it was meant to be, shiny, colorful and in use. My mom found me sitting in the nook in the very center of the carousel with my back to the spotted mirrors. I was imagining what the carousel would have looked like whirling around me. All of those seasons turning forward, spinning by so fast into the next.

As I have gotten older, my days feel like that imagined carousel turn, just peeling by so quickly, blurring into the next, with small details popping out of the daily smear. If I stand in the center of it all and focus on one day, one time, and turn my head with it as it moves by, that smidgen of minutes slows and comes into focus. I can follow it, watching it's moments and small details with ease. Soaking up the day instead of letting it blow by me. Focusing on its purpose, relishing its small delights, like fresh vacuum lines in the carpet, the crispy edges of newly turned leaves, the chill that rests on the windows in the mornings, and the squish of feet into slippers.

I have been focusing on the carousel this week, watching it spin and stepping on to ride each day. Life has been colorful and with purpose and savored like it should be.