Up, up, up we went. Above the sandy beach, above the waves lapping rhythmically onto shoreline. Over the wooden boardwalk, the hot dog vendor stands, the musicians performing for change thrown into a hat. Up in the sky we soared, above it all - above frayed palm tree leaves, alongside flying sea birds. Riding the Ferris wheel at the pier, my sister and I drank in the fresh ocean breeze blowing our hair. And as we ascended and descended, laughing and screaming at intervals, feeling like our little bucket in the sky might spontaneously flip over, sending us plummeting into the splashing water below - it did not. And soon, we settled into our seats and peacefully took it all in. The blueness of the sky, the sandy gold beach below, the faint sounds of the boardwalk life, that beautiful ocean outstreched endlessly toward the sunny skyline. Wide open spaces. Sometimes a girl needs 'em.
Riding in circles on it's colorful spindles and buckets, the Ferris wheel reminded me of something.... something I often forget: a little something called hope. You see, I am so often caught up in the "boardwalk" life below. I get lost in the shuffle, my thoughts drowned out by the city noise and blaring music, my dreams crushed by the smash of people and the push of the crowd. But up there - up near heaven - almost touching that blissfully blue sky? You're free. Free like the birds. To fly and sing... and dream. My littler ride on the Ferris wheel that beach day out with my precious family reminded me to dream. To not forget my dreams. To not let them get lost in the crowd, the craziness, and the confusion life throws at me.