Ferris Wheel

One of my greatest memories took place at a state fair, a quiet, surreal memory in the midst of a noisy, light-filled place.

It was on a ferris wheel. My closest, dearest friend and I rode it in the evening, when the sun was lazily moving behind the clouds and beginning to disappear past the horizon. Wind pulled at our hair and caused us to shiver lightly, making our eyes water as we gazed out at the fair, spread out like a little doll town far, far below.

Looking out upon the fair and the shadows the sun cast upon it, hearing the muffled noise of the crowd and the children screaming while they rode carnival rides made the gondola we were in seem ethereal. Colorful lights flashed below us, and multi-colored signs advertising games and food decorated the ground like someone had tossed a handful of confetti above the fair and wherever the scraps of paper landed, signs and flags would pop up. We could see everything from above; on the ground navigating the fair was like walking through the labyrinth, but in the sky each booth seemed like a mere spec in a small town. It was like time had stopped high up in the air and it was just me and my friend, alone, in our own little world.

We didn’t speak much, preferring to spend our time taking in as much as we could. But it was a content silence, the kind you can only experience when you and the other person are entirely comfortable in each other’s presence. She is my best friend and I love her dearly, and she looked absolutely stunning as the wind whipped through her hair and golden light shone on her skin until it looked as if it glowed. She smiled at me widely, the only person in existence who has stood by me for so long, and there was not a single other place I would rather have been than at the top of the ferris wheel with her.