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This Brilliant Ride

This Day. My mother recounting a single story to me over and over again. She places me on a Carousel, sits me on the sleek, horse, raring to race the wind, mouth open, legs already in motion, ready to fly. And she steps aside, takes another step, and another. Steps down and turns around, watching me as the Carousel begins to turn and spin, carrying me forward and far away and forever into the unknown. Until I emerge from the other side of tomorrow and I am back again, her child, smiling, waving with one tiny hand. And she is crying because she is a mother and I am her child and it is the first time she has let me ride alone, allowed me to spin into places beyond her reach.

And with every single spin I look for her and she is standing there. In that same spot, and I am waving, waving, waving with every blurring turn. And life goes on, and on until I am stepping down, turning around, waving to my sons, as they spin away and beyond my reach, and I am waiting for a glimpse of them, breathless until they emerge from the other side of tomorrows and far away lands. And the music plays, and the lights dance on. Until they, too, step away, step down, turn around and their sons and daughters are spinning into tomorrow, into forever and shall the Earth abide, so, too, their children's children, learning to ride, free and brave, into the spinning day upon day, night unto night.

And this day, today, I think of my Mother waiting, patiently waiting, for a glimpse of me to emerge from the other side. And we are spinning, all of us, into tomorrows and forevers, and emerging again, and again, bound by love and memory.

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