The Carnival

This was a short email I left for my girlfriend to celebrate her.

My world is like a carnival.  It’s exciting.  There is so much to look at, so much to do, so many places to go. I’ve covered so much of this place that it seems like home, and I rarely get lost.  But sometimes my world is even more like a carnival than it was just then.  This time it is disturbed by loud noises.  Louder strangers. People in masks.  Out of focus aggression.  There is no place to think.  I can’t breathe.  I’ve spent my whole life in this place and I can count the people I’ve known on my left hand.   But today I made it into a particularly noisy place.  I stand in the middle of it all, looking around.  And then I see you standing in your own crowd. And all of that noise muffles.  I reach out my hand.  Your finger tips touch my own.  I did not expect you to turn back, but you did.  You fingers slipped over mine.  I place my other hand high behind me and I bow to your curtsey as I kiss your knuckles – for that’s what they do here.  We circle each other in a slow dance. All of the noise goes faint and my heart beats in my ears.  We both know how to dance, but here we are, resigned to let our bodies move while we contemplate one another.  “Hello.”  Oh, that was wonderful.  Poets be proud.  How cordial we are, oh how proud our benefactors would be!  I ask, “Do I know you?”  But you are already smiling.  We snap our feet together and pivot with a little clap, turn, and circle each other in the opposite direction, a little faster this time.  “Of course you do.”  I beam a familiar smile back to you, “I never get tired of meeting you.”  “Nor I,” you respond.  “Did you bring something for me?”  We pause our dance and bow to one another again.  I produce a pair of ears.  You reach to take it from me, but I pull it just beyond your reach so that you have to come very near to retrieve it.  “These are mine. “  You pout, but not for long. “These are for you.”  My other hand produces a separate pair.  Without breaking my gaze, you take the gift and slip them on.  I put mine on.  We smile because we know that we’ve always shared this small accoutrement.  We dance despite the chaos around us.  When the music stops, you return your ears to me. 

“Tomorrow, then?” You ask. 

“And every day thereafter” I respond.

We kiss, and leave the courtyard to prepare ourselves for tomorrow’s carnival.