As a kid I had a stomach of steel. I prided myself on being able to ride twisty, jolting, high-speed roller coasters for hours on end, even while stuffing myself with corn dogs and funnel cakes. The click, click, click sound of the car inching its way up the track before nosediving was intoxicating. I was addicted to the thrill.
This past weekend, my family and I met up with some great friends of ours at the Indianapolis Children's Museum. The dads took the boys to see mummies and trains. We moms brought the girls to the Barbie exhibit, where we stayed....and stayed....and stayed until we were starving and finally able to drag our daughters away from the Barbie dress-up clothes, stencils, salon and into the over-priced food court. I ate a small piece of greasy pizza and a protein bar before we moved on to a circusy section of the museum containing one full-sized old school carousel.
Sure! It'll be fun!
And as we stood in line, we picked out our favorite horses, giraffes even lions bobbing up and down to the beat of the polka tunes blasting loudly, filling our girls with anticipation. When it was finally our turn, Priscilla and Mary dashed to a pair of stallions standing side by side, looking ever so regal. I grabbed my camera and started snapping away:
I focused my viewfinder on their smiles, on the lights shining like stars in the ceiling, and on the crowd that had gathered to watch, now morphing into one gigantic blur as we turned round and round and round and round and...oh my heart, I am going to be SICK! Seriously, my insides are flip-flopping, my head is pounding. The music...stop this music! Finally, mercifully, that carousel came to a halt and I stumbled off, wondering what the heck had happened to me. It was like when I tried to do a back bend for my niece last week and my legs buckled in protest. You'd think I'm getting old or something.
Wait...let's rephrase that, find the silver lining:
I am becoming wise.
Wise enough to know that spinning carousels wreak havoc on the equilibrium of those on the other side of thirty-five.
Wise enough to (slowly) digest I do have limits.