Ode to The Zipper

Yesterday I remembered how great it is to laugh until you cry, which can sometimes be a rare event in day-to-day adult life.

Between applying sunscreen and chasing sugar-filled kids, it took me three trips to Ormstown Fair to meet my personal goal: a fancy-free ride on The Zipper. On Sunday, I took a moment to indulge in somersaulting bottoms up while unabashedly shrieking and laugh/crying my way through a ride on the midway.

I’m someone who is often preoccupied by fears, someone obsessively checking rearview mirrors, baby gates, and scanning for choking hazards. Since I’m a mom who cuts every grape into small pieces, it might seem odd that The Zipper is my idea of fun. Though the physics seem ill advised, the top 40 music deafening, and the safety latches questionable, somehow this ride has never failed me in producing pure glee.

As I thought about why I’d enjoyed a simple midway ride so much this weekend, I realized that we’re so easily consumed by worries big and small—be they freak accidents, job insecurities, or fears of losing those we hold dear to hate or disease. As the weekend came to a close, the rides would be disassembled, smashed up derby cars stowed, and candy apple cheeks wiped clean. I vowed to try and remember that feeling of carefree joy now and again, which whatever your fair pleasure, is perhaps the true point of weekends like these.