We had this death-trap on our playground known as the Merry-Go-Round. If you aren’t familiar, it was circular and flat, like a giant metal disk with rails to hold on to. I believe ours was painted red. Half of my friends would jump on for a ride and the others would grab a hold and run. They would spin that wheel like a pack of crazed hyenas with scuffed dusty sneakers, eyes wild with determination.

I was a runner. I was fast and there was a weird power I enjoyed having over the riders as they clung on for dear life, screaming. Every once in a while, I’d stop, catch my breath and look around to see what everyone else was doing. Kickball, swings, monkey bars, the tall metal slide that burned your ass, hanging out by the giant tree to talk or playing a made-up game. There was always so much to do and never enough recess. There was controlled chaos everywhere. Until the whistle blew and we had to line up, calm down and get back to being told what to do.

The problem with the Merry-Go-Round is that it’s dangerous. It never slows down unless you force it. When one runner takes a break, another gets sucked in and takes their place. It’s constant, moving and spinning. If you aren’t careful, it can consume you and all become a blur. For years, I spent so long focused on making it go, that I now marvel at how I arrived here. An adult in my 40’s, I still look around my house with wonder and and think “Huh, this is a pretty nice fort.”

Since I’m focused on writing and illustrating, my inner child is a constant companion. I need her help recalling feelings and memories to bring my stories to life. At times though, we are at odds. It’s hard to be in a creative zone and stop because of responsibilities. Painting water color pictures, then getting dinner ready. Conveying the way the air smelled, moist rich Earth, a warm Summer breeze, then yelling at my kids to stop arguing and brush their teeth. It’s one hell of a juxtaposition and a total balancing act. I want to feel that euphoria, that carefree-ness, but then my surroundings are always bringing me back to reality.

You know what? On second thought, maybe I need to break out a whistle of my own to  line my kids up, have them calm down and get used to being told what to do. If they would just listen, that may be magic enough for me.