Oliver Ausman Lives Again

seventeen

Central Park is our next stop, and is a nice change of pace from the bustling ferry and busy streets. It's crowded like the rest of the city, but the people traversing the wide, shaded paths of the park seem more laid back somehow. Where everywhere else is like one big race, the park is a nice place to take a breather and appreciate the bits of nature that New York City has to offer.

The trees hang over our heads, hiding us from the sun that finally decided to make an appearance. I'm thankful that thanks to the clouds starting to disperse, it's getting a little warmer. Birds chirp from their hidden nests, while the less shy pigeons walk along the sidewalk, bobbing their heads. A small flock crowds around one bench where an old man sits, a bag of birdseed in his hand.

"Did you know the park has over nine thousand benches?" Charlie asks, turning backwards to face me and Kat. Despite his shorter legs, he's walking faster than both of us. It's like the kid has some hidden source of never-ending energy.

"Nine thousand?" Kat repeats. I'm surprised by both the trivia and the amount of facts Charlie's managed to remember.

"Nine thousand." He nods. "And the carousel," he points to the brick structure we're approaching, where typical merry-go-round organ music blares from, "is over a hundred years old."

"Not really the kind of information that makes me eager to ride it." I watch the wooden horses go in circles, smiling kids and laughing parents sitting on their saddles. 

"Please?" Charlie brings out the puppy dog eyes again, already leading us in the direction of the line.

"We should," Kat suggests. "I haven't been on one since I was... jeez, probably Charlie's age."

"I don't know." I shrug, standing next to them as they join the short queue. "Spinning like that makes me nauseous."

I think of the last time I was on a carousel-- it was my tenth birthday, and Mom and Peter rented out a small park for the day. My whole grade was invited, a large group of boys all on the verge of double digits, finishing up our last year as elementary schoolers. 

The problem was, I was just as reserved at ten as I am now. I wasn't friends with anyone, and I knew-- without really caring-- that they'd all shown up for the party rather than for me. Mom was busy with Charlie, who was about to turn one, and Peter was occupied with making sure the party ran smoothly.

I spent almost all day on the merry go round by myself, watching the same trees pass over and over, listening to snippets of passing conversations and laughter buried underneath the music. I went around and around while my brain tried to deal with the knowledge that I was one year older. 

When I finally got off, it still felt like everything around me was spinning. I got sick, ate cake, and went home, wondering if the world would spin forever. I guess in a way, it never did stop-- it still feels like everything moves around me in a blur that I can't quite understand.