Chasing Painted Horses

But there ain't no back
To a merry-go-round!
--Langston Hughes, "Merry-Go-Round"

The Boy and I rode the merry-go-round today. It was one of those cheap mock carnivals in a mall parking lot where all the rides are unfolded semi-trailers. Well, all the rides but the merry-go-round; it's the one ride that can't be cheapened by folding it up into a 53-foot trailer.

He exchanged a few bills into tickets and we stepped on the rickety red platform. The Boy didn't care much which horse he rode--he was on the ride primarily because it would make me happy--but I take my horse selection seriously. I have a whole methodology in choosing my steed: I prefer ones that are lowered at the beginning because I find they usually end raised and I like to climb down instead of pick myself up at the end.

I also prefer the ones that are dented or scratched. Maybe it goes back to reading the Velveteen Rabbit when I was little, but I like to think everything has a soul, especially children's toys. The damaged horses aren't ruined; they've just been pre-loved. Leave the shiny ones for the kids who don't know any better.

I chose a black horse with a green saddle and a missing ear on the outside and The Boy grabbed the adjacent one on the inside. I like the outside because the horses run faster and, if I remember my physics correctly, I think I'm right. I grinned while The Boy shrugged and made an off-hand remark that he liked the inside because less people would be able to notice him on the children's ride. I didn't care. I've always loved the merry-go-round.

The ride began. The tinny music filled the speakers and I was surprised with how quickly the little merry-go-round sped up. I even caught The Boy smiling. We laughed and even the music wasn't so bad; it's been updated to "real" music as opposed to the music box tinkles. The center of the merry-go-round was decorated in mirrors which made me dizzy as I looked in, towards The Boy.

The small merry-go-round was equally as short in the ride length. The galloping horses slowed and mine sunk into the floor as it stopped.

"That's not supposed to happen," I huffed.

"Are you going to get on another horse?" he asked.

"Yeah, why don't we?"

"Okay."

He handed over more tickets and this time I picked a purple horse with a blue saddle and a hole in the horse's neck that I plugged with my thumb. Again we raced off. I looked into the mirrors in the center until I got disoriented, but The Boy never did. While I looked inward, he looked outward, but it was never at each other. He was always looking for something else.

My purple horse halted against the floor with it's raised hoof scraping the color-coated steel. Again I had to pick myself off the floor.

"I can't believe it's happened again."

"Are you going to get on another horse?" he asked flatly.

"Um, okay."

And he handed off the last of the tickets.

I took the next horse in the circle--I don't even remember what color it was. Just don't leave me on the ground, I pleaded into the painted mane. Let me end higher than before we started.

The platform jerked forward unevenly and I stared ahead while we chased the painted horses. I hated the mirrors.

The ride stopped and, as usual, The Boy was high and I was low.

"Are you going to get on another horse?"

"No. I'm getting off the ride altogether." It surprised The Boy and it surprised the hell out of me.

And I picked myself up off the floor and I walked away.