I pull my yellow lined pad of paper out of my purse ~ low tech ~ as Tina Turner music fills the air from a nearby cover band ~ Rollin’ ~ rollin’ ~ rollin’ down the river. Ed is on a quest for fried cheese. I sit with Emmy & Lily, who are eating watermelon Italian Ices ~ because they know I won’t eat any of it. I can’t stand the taste of watermelon. Smoke rises behind the signs that scream ~ STEAK SANDWICH w/ FRIES ~ CHICKEN WINGS ~ CHEESE FRIES ~ CORN DOGS! The music changes ~ Come on, baby, don’t ya wanna go ~ Sweet Home, Chicago!
Mamas of all shapes and sizes, ages and ethnicities push their babies in strollers on the grass. Teenagers walk the midway holding hands. Daddys take their begging children on twirly, whirly rides. Emmy and Lily concentrate on their ices, which is turning their tongues bright red. Ed returns to table, no cheese in hand. He looks puzzled at my notepad until it dawns on him. “You’re writing something for your blog, aren’t you?”
“Yup,” I smile. I put my notepad away, and we hold little hands as all four of us head for the twirly, whirly rides, the sun glowing behind us as it dips toward the horizon.