It spins around and around and around. She’s standing, laughing. Her smile is contagious. One hand rests on the rail, the other cradles the life that is growing within her. She wonders if it’s a girl or a boy. She wonders if they will be blessed with their grandmother’s green eyes. She pictures rocking her newborn to sleep. She hears the words ‘mama’ and ‘dada’. She sees a curly-haired toddler cuddling with daddy, learning to read.
She reaches a hand to her husband. She is glowing with happiness. She thinks life could never get better than this – she has it all, the husband, the house, the white picket fence, and now, this, a gift she hardly even knew she wanted. Her husband watches her, lovingly, hypnotized by her smile.
The park is empty. The sounds of playing children have been replaced with the quiet hum of cars rushing by and the whistle of the wind rusting the leaves. The only other sound is the whoosing of the merry-go-round as it spins round and round. And her laughter.
Then she stops. She is buckled over with pain. She feels the life slipping away from her. She lies across the floor; she’s not alone, but she’s empty inside, dizzy, spinning around on the merry-go-round.