To What Might Have Been

We fought long and hard to keep the carnival open, yet; it is now time to accept the frigid winter is coercing our closure. The cotton candy machine has broken. Thick shards of ice now prevent the Tilt a Whirl from spinning. In my recollection, warm days, massive crowds, and the barkers still call out for potential consumers to play their games. Through the thick air, the smell of fresh popcorn lingers. But they remain no more.

You invited me onto the grounds. I was reluctant initially to go near the rides and games due to fear from prior experiences. However, you persuaded me to try, promising it would be gratifying. This was no lie. We began on the roller coaster, then watched the man eat fire. The bearded lady broadcasted jokes not intended for virgin ears. It was riveting. You proved to me that re-emergence of the carnival was not frightening but enthralling.

At some point, in time, we lost each other among the crowd. This occurred frequently, and fear crept back in like a bony finger caressing my spine. We ended up on the Ferris Wheel. But its rusty, aged steel beams continuously faulted its function, leaving me grounded, you, airborne; not wanting to come down. Attendance plummeted when the polar air invaded. Divergent views on how to regain the once spectacular venue ripped us apart. You implied that modest carnivals have run their course, and they are merely a glimpse of history. Larger, further extravagant theme parks are now the desire for most. You sold the carnival for scraps and locked the gate. I snuck in one last time and lay a single white rose in the snow where we met.

I will fondly remember your spontaneity, determination, and child-like sense of whimsy. I shed a tear for what might have been. But I wipe it away because my soul smiles at having known you. Much like a carnival, you are rare and typically temporary. Being with you was an exhilarating ride of emotions; filled with ups, downs, twists, and turns. Not only does my soul smile, but also my heart. Through it all, I'm a better person for having purchased a ticket at the gate, rather than walking away with fear and regret.