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When I was a teenager (and several times in my adult life) I wanted to run away with the fair/carnival/circus. It captivates me. The games, the lights, the food, the wanderlust. The outcasts being in the spotlight. For two weeks or less, you are a face that every child cannot wait to see, at another place on the map, and then you’re gone. Your family is your fellow carnies; your home is forever on the move. You have roots and wings all at once. There is a strange beauty in that, to me.

There is a side to it that I don’t know, because I haven’t lived it. The side where you have to set up and take down, the side where you travel to the next place. The side where you work all night, and again the next day. The taking tickets, watching people get sick, fixing rides, eating fair food on a regular basis. These things I don’t know, because I’ve not worn those shoes.

But the intrigue is still there. The desire to follow that “gypsy” part of me flutters its wings each year that I watch the neon lights come to life. If I could live multiple lives at once, one of them would be setting up the things that make people laugh and scream and make them happy to be alive right now.  But I only have the one life, and in this one I take my children to this wonderland of lights, games, rides and laughter. I hope in my next one the other me gets to enjoy that world in the ways I wish I could in this one.