The day was easy, it must have been Sunday morning or at least it felt like it. Easy Like Sunday Morning. I was around ten at the time and a gregarious and likeable child. I bounded out of my Holly Hobby room in my fuzzy slippers and the tantalizing smell of smoked bacon led me to our small kitchen. I remember that the kitchen appliances were an earthy green color. I remember simply because I like green and this is not relevant to my story whatsoever.
My mother was at the stove turning the bacon while my Dad waited anxiously to steal a cooked piece and excitably told my mother about his wild dream. It seemed silly but what did I know. He turned to me and smiled and said “ooOh Child, things are going to get easier!” I giggled. I thought things were already pretty easy. Besides brushing my teeth and remembering to pick up my dirty socks I didn’t have it so hard. What he said though reminded me of a song my Mom would sing to me. One time I had a horrible ear infection and the pain had me in tears. After giving me my banana flavored penicillin before bed she softly sang that song. My mother was tone deaf and had as much rhythm as our pasty white local librarian singing Abba in the talent competition during spring fling. Being ten though and loving my mother the way I did I felt like every time she opened her mouth it was like angels flew out!
So when my Dad excitably said that to me I knew immediately that something good was about to happen and I was Bustin Out at the seams hoping to get in on the secret before my brothers got up. My youngest brother slept like the dead and the other was at the stage where he spent a lot of time alone in his room with his Bo Derek Poster. My Mother said he was discovering himself, or exploring himself or some shit. I am not sure but his voice was beginning to sound weird and he never seemed to have any clean socks!
“Didn’t I blow your mind this time?” my Dad asked, slapping my Mom lovingly on her ass. It was times like these that I wondered if my mother ever got annoyed by my Dad’s never-ending, gigantic, best one yet plans. She continued to flip bacon and she smiled back at me and winked.
So it was over crisp bacon and scrambled eggs that I learned of our new fate. No more just Stayin Alive my Dad said, it was about time that we started living out our dreams. We were on a Love Rollercoaster and we were Born to run. So here we were, the five of us sitting around that laminate dining table on harvest gold vinyl chairs Reelin In the years.
“Mercy, mercy me!” my Mom exclaimed as my brother squeaked out his approval in a high pitched girly voice.
No more Workin for the man and wondering how you were going to rob Peter to pay Paul when Paul was flat broke. The news was like a Bridge over troubled water.
We were joining the CIRCUS!!
That very day we packed up our favorite things into our Ford Galaxy including my younger brothers sooky blanket, my older brothers Bo Derek Poster and a laundry basket full of dirty socks and of course my way too short draw-string corduroy pants and my most prized possession my glowing personality that would keep us happy for the long ride to the circus, wherever that was.
My Dad had the windows rolled down and he happily sang John Denver tunes as we put miles between us and responsibilities. Occasionally I would take a little break from amusing my family with my cute and wondrous chatter to daydream about what I was going to be in the circus. A Black Magic woman sounded like fun or maybe a Lion Tamer, an Acrobat or a Juggler. I was so excited I near peed my pants.
As we drove Into the Mystic I thought is it “Just My Imagination” because I said it before “Won’t get fooled again” but here we were driving that Ford Galaxy up my grandparents lane as my father sang along with Olivia Newton John on 8 track cassette.
So much for my dreams of being the worlds greatest illusionist, working with some of the most talented but undervalued humans ever. So much for dancing under the harvest moon in my bare feet with all the circus freaks and geeks. Alas though I was happy to hang out with my cousins and hover over the vent in my grandmothers room and spy on the adult conversation in the dining room below and stifle giggles every time my Aunt exclaimed “Good God what did you eat?” as my uncles famous farts escaped him and vibrated off the wood chair. Good times, perhaps it’s own type of circus.
Makes me miss those crazy farting buggers, every one of them.