A circle is the reflection of eternity. It has no beginning and it has no end – and if you put several circles over each other, then you get a spiral.
~ Maynard James Keenan
You spin me right round baby right round like a record baby right round round round.
~ Dead or Alive, You spin me round (like a record)
The four of us sat in the grass at the Farmer’s Festival, waiting for our turn on the Hay Ride. Brooke was perched in the nest of my crossed legs, looking out into the distance. She looked very serious.
“She was crying,” she said out of nowhere. Her little brow was wrinkled into her go-to expression of nearly cartoonish concern. “And she fell out of the bed!”
“Who was crying, honey?” I asked.
“The girl,” she said. “She was crying.”
“Oh, OK, baby. Why was she crying?”
“She fell out of the bed.”
I searched my brain for a script that would offer some context, but I came up dry. This ‘conversation’ appeared to be novel; or at least it was new to me.
“Who fell out of the bed, honey?” I asked.
“The girl did.”
“Oh, yes. I see. Who is the girl honey? What’s her name?”
I looked around the festival grounds, wondering if I might be missing something right in front of me.
“Ah, yes, of course. She.”
We sat quietly for a moment. I closed my eyes and kissed the top of her head lightly. If only I could crawl inside there.
“She was crying,” she said again, perhaps hoping this time I might understand. “And she fell out of the bed.”
For the life of me I didn’t know what response she was looking for.
I pressed on.
“Was she crying so hard that she fell out of the bed, honey? Or did she START to cry BECAUSE she fell out of the bed?”
I knew I’d used too many words. I knew the concept was confusing. But to my delight, she answered anyway.
“She cried so hard that she fell out of the bed.”
A glimmer of hope!
“Oh! OK. So WHY was she crying so hard, honey?” I asked. “What MADE her cry?”
“BECAUSE she fell out of the bed.”
Painted into yet another corner, I sighed quietly and nuzzled my nose into her hair. I wrapped my arms around her and gently squeezed.
“Well, I hope she’ll be all right, sweetheart,” I said wistfully. “I hope she’ll be all right.”