I was standing in a tie dyed trench coat that was 6 sizes too big for me. I had the sleeves pushed up past my elbows, as the nearly floor length garment sunk lower and lower on my arms, threatening to overtake my innocent fingers on their steel strings. I looked straight down into the open mouth of a baby, two trains poised in a mid-collision position within his grubby hands as a stream of drool fell in slow motion from his mouth. I smiled, proving I had more teeth than he did.
I raised my eyes to find 4 or 5 politely curious parents watching me, and I imagined they were wondering what on earth a childless grown woman was doing in such a ridiculous get-up, shuffling through a children’s museum with a guitar, a small voice, and a red face. None of them looked much older than me.
I strummed harder.
In an effort to make my un-mic’d voice louder, I pushed the air out of my lungs and hit a bad note of my own song. “You’re still on this carousel, thinking everything is well…”
Three more children ran towards me from the makeshift farm area, fighting over a small rubber animal and not sparing so much as a passing glance. A pig-tailed little girl walked in the opposite direction. High pitched screams erupted from the next room.
I felt sweat beading on the back of my hot neck beneath the hideous coat, and looked down to find the baby still staring. The shiny snail trail of drool was finally beading into a small pool beside his padded bottom.
“You’re not going anywhere — that you haven’t been before.”
I bounced the chords from one to the next, the major chord progression implying lighthearted happiness. I smiled at the wall. The bones in my right leg throbbed.
You’re not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere.
Suddenly, I wanted to cry. I envied the one with paint on her hands in the far room, crying loud enough for the entire building to hear her troubles. I considered for a moment relieving my sweaty palms of my guitar and crawling off into the simulated plane cabin just off to my left, a space that seemed small enough for a moment of hiccupping privacy. I thought of the 3+ sets of professional eyes watching me from a distance, judging me, and I smiled again. My brain churned.
There I was, a 24 year old woman. Seeking employment. Desperate enough to don a gigantic rainbow and embarrass myself in the middle of a museum with a demonstration of how to brush your teeth to music.
I was seeking more than a job, and I knew it. After the disappointing finale of my last work situation that had constantly waged war against my basic knowledge of what was right and wrong, I was on the hunt again. I was hunting for a reason to take my sweats off at some point in the day. A means to finish college. To feel like a contributing member of society again. A way to afford a plane ticket across the world to visit the person I miss so much it aches. To gain back the feelings of accomplishment and purpose that I’d lost, and so treasured. To feel like I was finally moving forward. Like I was going somewhere, instead of around and around in circles, like some kind of sick carousel ride.
It took some time that day, but I eventually won the kids over. Half of my smiles became genuine at the enthusiasm of a few, and I was greeted afterwards by the unexpected compliment of, “I could tell you’re doing what you love out there.” All I could think of in response was that I must be a good actress. Music had always held my heart, but not this way. I knew I would have the never ending verses of, “If You’re Happy and You Know It” in my head for days.
If my lack of formal training in the early childhood development department (and whatever other reasons they may have had) hadn’t cost me the job and produced an unpaid internship offer instead, I would have taken it. A job is a job, and at this point in my search, I would be grateful for any opportunity that I got. I would have worn their silly coat. I would have convinced myself the heat in my cheeks was just a performance flush. I would have stood still while women my age held their husbands hands as they watched me make a fool out of myself for their child. And I would have stood through the performances and sat through the commute with an aching knee and counted myself lucky to be working.
I want to get off of this carousel so badly. It’s been two years now, and it feels like I’m still not going anywhere. Last year, for a moment, the chance I was given let me believe I was free of the circular motions. But some people have the outstanding ability to disappoint you from their untouchable stations, and I found myself right back where I had been before I started – with nothing to show for a years worth of sweat and tears besides a bruised heart and the unwavering loyalty of a handful of children.
Lately, I’ve spent my days pursuing my own future again in a way that I haven’t in months, having put it on the back burner while seemingly more important events called for my attention around me. But now, the noise has died down. Some of the dust has settled. And while I take a breath to look around to see where the others landed after the storms, I see that they have moved forward, and I’m still here.
I get out of bed, and I tell myself, today is the day that this could change. I have to chase it. I feel like I’ve been chasing it, and yet, I look down and see those shiny painted horses haven’t let me off the ride.
I looked out the passenger window as I made it back into my little town that night, looking forward to some advil and getting out of the shirt that had recently suffered through a guitar shaped sweat spot on the front of it. It was melancholy sort of evening, with the feel of a gothic novel in the continuous soft grey rain, rolling heathery meadows, and dark mountains in the distance. It had never been this beautiful Northern town that I wanted to escape, only my own sense of inadequacy within it.
We passed scores of crows sitting in a sodden old pumpkin patch, pecking at the decaying remains of holiday cheer. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for all of those unchosen rotting pumpkins, the ones that had never gotten their chance to shine from within. Their moment was gone before they even got the chance to properly appreciate it.
The sanctuary of my home greeted me from the driveway with a soft glow of light from within, and I felt one of the genuine smiles beginning deep inside me. I stepped out of the car and heard the crunch of gravel beneath my feet.
I may be lacking in many areas in my life right now. I may need to improve in most. I may want a better plan, a shorter distance, more in the bank, a finished degree, a steady job, more security…so many things. But there’s something about coming home next to a pine covered mountain, and seeing the lights from the windows light up the wooden deck. Knowing the hearts of the ones who are closest to mine beat behind the bricks and dark green doors. Knowing that no matter how lacking I am – I am loved.
I can always hunt tomorrow.
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