Sometimes, all it takes is a carnival two blocks away from our house, and a ferris wheel, to remind me that the world looks different from WAY up here. You can't even see the pile of dishes that are stacked up in my sink, nor the teeny-tiny french fries in a happy meal at McDonalds. And I thought those things were all CONSUMING.
I couldn't even see L, who was riding in a seat (with her friends) that was immediately behind Big J and I; this is because shifting my weight, or turning around, or looking down TERRIFIES me 70-feet in the air. What we think we know and see is always so clear. Until we step back, or round a corner. Or look down from the top of a ferris wheel in the middle of our little town. It's so BEAUTIFUL, except for the rusted frame that reminds us that we are at the mercy of metal and the mental acuity of a Carnie to survive this little exercise in perception. That changes things, too.
Thank goodness. Because if all I could see and know for sure was the laundry pile in my basement, or the swim team schedule that resumes tomorrow, I might never get out of bed. Until someone spilled Cheerios all over the kitchen floor, that is; and obligation is just a short term goal for getting out of my pajamas.
But JOY and EXCITEMENT are the things I can't quite see yet, that are waiting just beyond that tree line. They're gonna scare the shit out of me, and after I punch them in the face, I'm REALLY gonna love 'um.
Welcome to the week, friends.
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