Home Planet: Life’s journey has its own rewards

She held the ticket tightly in her hand and stood in line.

She’d raced ahead of all the others to be first and she watched patiently as the carousel spun around with wild, elegant horses moving up and down, orbiting the calliope at its center.

Finally, the music faded and the horses slowed and came to a stop. She waited until everyone was off and, at last, the gate was opened.

Determined, she ran to the merry-go-round, circling until she found her favorite horse, He had been carved 100 years ago but he was still beautiful with a glossy, painted coat and a long genuine horse-hair tail. His eyes were fierce, wild horse eyes, and his mouth was open around the bit. He was the most beautiful creature in the world.

She climbed up into the saddle, wrapped the leather belt around her waist and put her feet into the stirrups taking the reins firmly in her hands. She was ready to go.

When the bell rang the horse moved beneath her. Faster and faster they went and the music swelled.

Around and around and around they rode. All she could see was the horse and the rings that hung high over her head. She reached out, stretching as far as she could, secretly thrilled by the way she had to lift up out of the saddle just a bit, holding on with only one hand.

Pinching her thumb and index finger together, she plucked a plastic ring from the sleeve. She held it up like a trophy and waved it at her mother, smiling over her shoulder as she was swept out of sight. She grabbed another ring. And another. She pulled the golden ring.

And as she flew past the big clown painted on the wall she tossed each ring at him.

The mother watched the girl ride, her hair blowing in the breeze. She watched as the child reached out and won the prize, pulled her hand close to her heart and then swung it wide, tossing the ring into the air.

That’s how it ought to be, the mother thought, watching her child.

What matters most is the journey, not what you grab along the way. What matters is the way you choose to ride. The way you throw yourself into the spin and let the music fill you until it vibrates deep in your bones and against the soles of your feet. The way you hold on until you’re brave enough or daring enough to let go.

What matters is the freedom to win the treasure and then release it. What is important is to search the crowd for a familiar face and find it; a face that tells you that you are loved.

Life carries us up and down and around and around, the woman thought. There are prizes if you’re fast enough and willing to reach for them.

But there is also the thrill of the chase and the bittersweet feeling of watching what you could have held onto fly away and disappear.

When the carousel slowed and stopped, the little girl jumped down and ran to her mother.

As they walked down the path, toward the car, toward home, there was one thought between them. It hung in the air like the jangling music of a carousel.

The ride is the thing. And it doesn’t have to take you to anywhere at all to be wonderful.