My beloved and I sit on a SkyGlider, like the grand chairlift at the Ohio State Fair, only it doesn’t glide over the tawdry and dear Ohio State Fair.
A much sleeker ride, it passes silently over everything we have ever seen together: Seventh Avenue South, Camden Road, Bexley, Israel. We glide over everywhere we have lived or traveled — and everything and everyone we have ever known. The rich content of our lives spreads beneath our dangling feet. We move on, suspended over our younger selves, as they enact our lives.
We enjoy the leisurely pace. But, as we near the big 90° turn (this must be a round-trip ticket), I sense that our chair is about to swing very swiftly around the turn — and, in fact, the return trip will be fast. Very fast. I see the cars ahead, accelerating, so I say, "It looks like we are about to speed up in a very big way."
The return trip starts very fast.
It is exciting. It speeds up so fast, however, that we can’t see the scenes below. They are blurred. The ride is smooth, but so fast — so fast that it creates roller coaster tension. Fun and unusually quiet, but we grip the safety bar tightly.
I turn to my beloved and ask her to kiss me. As we kiss, eyes closed, the sensation of hurtling through space lifts completely.
With our eyes closed, holding our kiss, it is as if we are still, even though our chair continues flying at a blur.
Our love doesn’t stop time, but it calms the flight.