carnival

lane himself lit a cigarette as the train pulled in. then, like so
many people, who, perhaps, ought to be issued only a very
probational pass to meet trains, he tried to empty his face of all
expression that might quite simply, perhaps even beautifully,
reveal how he felt about the arriving person.
.

...................................

franny & zooey

~j.d. salinger

...................................

.

i was on the bus riding home today and experienced a visceral moment of recall while reading the above passage:

.

alabama.
bayou la batre.
late afternoon waning on towards evening.
the field behind st. margaret's school.
carnival rides suggesting that perhaps it is the yearly blessing of the fleet.
and i am on a ride that circles round
passing a parent rhythmically.
and each time as i come back toward them,
i steel my face so that none of my giddy pleasure is visible.

while i remember distinctly the jittery life of my simple joy
shut away but still vibrating inside my ribcage,
the figure itself switches fluidly between my father and mother
and the ride blurs between a kiddie ride where i am alone
and a ferris wheel crammed with siblings.

at first i found it mildly bothersome
that i couldn't conjure the exact details.
i worried that my mind is confused perhaps,
or uncertain.
{yes, even my stunning memory flails at times,
joining disparate fragments haphazardly
like a four year old's first collage.}

but i've settled that, truer yet, this moment took place more than once.
it evolved from the shyness/shame of riding {and yet still enjoying} the kiddie rides alone
while my siblings are off on the bigger kid rides
to being unable to show any enjoyment whether not i was by myself.
and now i have merely reconstructed/discovered

a centerpiece for this experience--
this need to hide how much fun i was having
because it would make me too vulnerable
even for a parent to see.

i recall considering the fact that they would enjoy my enjoyment
and that i could/should leak a smile or two for their sake,
but if i conceeded, i made sure they saw it was forced.
a lie on top of a lie.
somehow even the possibility of disappointing them
was not enough inducement to risk them seeing a real smile.

the feeling of aloneness in joy
as well as the feeling of holding in joy
i still remember very well:
the unbearable pressure of hiding an explosion inside my chest
while nonchalantly pretending that everything is no big deal.

and now i wonder:
when did i learn how to do this?
and why?

and now i understand:
the simple and transcendent pleasure i will never take for granted of a laugh that is so overpowering it escapes my body and sings loud and clear from my throat.

it amazes me every time.