As the year extinguishes itself, it’s finally time for me to come out of hibernation. They only need me once a year but that is enough for me. I’m old and tired and afraid that working any more than what is required of me would force me into early retirement. The biting cold stalks me through my extremities but I press on.
People rely on me and letting my weariness come in the middle of this will not be the case. I’ve been staying here since birth in 1910, waking up when the leaves fall to welcome a new batch of guests. The smell of popcorn and air spun candy has become my perfume and the uproarious laughter of my visitors has become my song.
I’ve not always loved my home though. I can think of many a time where I wanted to uproot in search of a newer, brighter place to live but thank god no one took me seriously. Not much has changed over the years and while home could definitely to with another lick of paint, that is precisely what it is: home. Ironically enough, I’m scared of heights. You wouldn’t expect it seeing as to how tall I am, but yet, being far away from Earth’s surface fills me with a pregnant sense of panic so I try not to look down.
The people that visit me love being high up strangely enough. They love sitting on my shoulders as I spin them around, pulling them further and further away from the ground… Well, most of them love it anyway. A couple of them, usually the tinier visitors, don’t like it at all. Their screams tear through their being as if being so high up ignites some kind of primal instinct in them. Others absolutely adore being tossed — they sit on my shoulders, their legs kicking in absolute ecstasy as I give them a panoramic view of my home.
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As the year reaches its Sunday, I am awake again. The aches and groans may have intensified but the rest has done me well. Every year brings new surprises and I predict this will be no different.
