On Monday I rode the Ferris wheel at the Schaghticoke Fair. I could see the buildings where I went to school, and kids playing football.
I don't like heights, but I was ready to make my 10-year-old feel like he'd had a full day at the fair, so I agreed.
The last time I'd been on a Ferris wheel was with his brother, when he was 4. I was terrified. Little flappy doors kept my kid from spilling out and down to the world he was loving seeing.
This time, however, I was able to climb over my terror pretty quickly.
Maybe because I'd survived that last ride with a wiggly boy. Maybe because I had enough life under my belt to move away from my feelings and start to see.
"You get so much information up here," my son said.
I saw trees and fields and houses. The land that nestled my education, and all the other non-academic things that happened there. I saw the lights of the midway, and roads and cars, all bathed in a beautiful hazy humid twilight.
When I graduated from high school, a friend's mother invited me to ride a hot air balloon the morning of graduation. I chickened out.
I don't regret my wimpiness. Maybe I couldn't have seen a thing back in 1984, even if I was supposed to notice the way the world curved beyond my familiar realm.
I've spent a lot of time exploring people and places away from here. I know enough to know I hardly know anything, especially about the worlds and people in and around my old school. Information, my son said. Getting closer to the sky got me a little closer to the ground, too. I have so much to see.
Amy Halloran is a Troy writer. Her website is at http://amyhalloran.net.