The Day My Dad Made Me Ride a Carousel at 24
My parents came to visit me in Minneapolis, and like every family outing, we wandered the Mall of America. Somewhere between the giant Lego store and the food court, we passed the carousel.
My dad stopped, eyes bright like a child’s.
"You MUST go on that ride!" Dad burst out, totally hyped. "It'll be fun! Please!"
My sister and I were getting annoyed. "No. We're not babies anymore." We kept walking, but then I realized Dad wasn't with us. I turned around. There he was, 52 and graying, just watching that carousel. Watching parents with their kids, listening to giggles, seeing them wave as they passed.Something about that image hit me in the chest. I tugged my sister’s arm.
“Come on. Let’s ride it.”
We turned around and told Dad. His face lit up, like we’d just handed him the moon. He rushed to buy the tickets, practically bouncing as he handed them over.
The carousel was slow and creaky, the kind that plays tinny music and smells faintly of popcorn. But every time we passed, my parents were there waving, snapping photos, laughing so hard their shoulders shook.
If there's anything I hate more than watching my parents get old, it's watching them feel old. Sometimes love isn’t in the grand gestures. Sometimes it’s just climbing onto a carousel you’re too old for, waving like you mean it, and letting someone you love see you as their child again. ❤️
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I guess it's that kind of "Forget it, I'll do it" moment. That was really, really sweet. If you are young now, you may not realize exactly how much until around 2045.
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