Merry-Go-Round

I think it was around third or fourth grade when the merry-go-round was the cool thing to do at recess. I remember how it felt to close my eyes and feel the wind brush across my face while the merry-go-round spun at what seemed like lightening speed. I can almost feel the white knuckle grip of my hands as I tightly braced myself against the protective bar and silently vowed I will not throw up, I will not fall off.  I remember being surrounded by several others who were tucked into their own nooks and holding on for dear life, as well.  On the ground two or three others raced around the outside of the merry-go-round attempting to get it to top speed and laughing at victims who were turning more and more green by the second. 

Inevitably, someone would call out a faint but desperate, I need off!! 

I remember what it felt like to fight to get to the edge of the merry-go-round and reach out my leg to stop the seemingly massive piece of equipment.  It seemed that the world around me was traveling so fast and to stop it seemed close to an impossibility.  I remember letting my leg drop down to the ground and watching a cloud of dust form as I dug my heal into the ground in an attempt to help the merry-go-rounds latest victim.  My foot stuttered and the merry-go-round bounced up and down resisting my attempts to stop it. 

Sometimes, life seems like a merry-go-round.  All I want to do is stick my foot out and slow it down but there is resistance on every front.  Things to do, places to be, commitments to fulfill, schedules to keep, people to see. . . on and on and on. 

This is life, right?  I get that there is really no way around it.  Except, that is, when there is. 

Thanks to my wonderful in-laws who were willing to watch all three of our kids, Chad and I were able to stick our feet to the ground and slow life down for a couple of days last weekend.  In celebration of our anniversary we escaped to the big city (said with a back woods drawl) to remember what it’s like to be “us”. 

I am like any woman and what does every woman want for her anniversary? 

No, not a baseball player. . .

You got it. . . great seats to a great baseball game.  (If you could see me now you would see me laughing because, really, I have zero interest in baseball.  I really can’t even tell you who was playing).  However, I care quite a bit about my husband and he cares about baseball so there you have it.  We began our weekend at a baseball game and it was. . . cold.

See?  Purple lips. We made it past the seventh inning before I began violently shivering and decided to call it a night.  (He cares for me, too.)

We didn’t have a lot of plans for the weekend.  We stayed in the heart of the city and my small town self really just wanted to take it all in.  After a morning run Chad and I meandered our way all around the unfamiliar area.  In my eyes it was nothing short of perfection.  We talked, we laughed, and more than anything we payed no attention to the time.  When we came this wonderful Lebanese restaurant, we stopped and ate some of the best food I’ve ever eaten. 

I’ve decided that food eaten at a table on a sidewalk just tastes better. 

I won’t go into all the details of our day, but let me just say that getting off the merry-go-round was wonderful.  We had no destination.   We had no plans.  We just walked and talked and enjoyed being us.

Picture small town girl enthralled with every detail of brick and mortar, captivated by people on the street, and dreaming of the “what ifs?”  Yes, I looked like a tourist.

As much as you can take the girl out of the small town. . . you can’t take the small town out of the girl.  My favorite part of our “tour”?  The Farmer’s Market.

Also known as. . . A Little Slice of Heaven.

The people, the fresh produce, the chaos, the quaintness of it all. . . Rows and row and aisles and aisles of sweet goodness.  Oh my. . . I could have stayed there all day if Chad hadn’t enticed me with ice cream. 

We had more than a three mile walk back to our hotel and the sky was beginning to turn a bit black so we decided to head back. If you are at all familiar with Chad and I you know that there will always be some sort of “adventure” if we are together.  Saturday afternoon it hit. . .

That would be my broken sandal. . . on the streets of Cleveland. . . three miles away from our hotel.  Yep, my bare feet walked three miles down city streets, across bridges, through sidewalks and on and on back to our hotel. Interestingly, no seemed to think it was strange. . . I think I can handle this big city life. 

Needless to say, jumping off the merry-go-round proved, once again, to be worth it.  I’m glad we did it.  It was good to remember and touch base with the “us” that was before “all of us”.  As much as I dig “all of us”, I tell you what. . .

I love “us”.