What’s all this love of arguing? No one ever convinces anyone else. — Leo Tolstoy
And it was as if they bought their words tickets for the carousel and sent them on their way. It was a place they had been. And been again.
I don’t know if an argument really solved anything. This one just convinced them both of their beliefs. Hers, that she was grown, and deserved to ask for what she needed. That it was acceptable to expect a little respect for herself, too. His, that he would not jump through the hoops he perceived were being displayed in front of him. That he was right. That these choices were hers and the consequences were born from her decisions.
She was lost. And he was angry. The words went round and round until they didn’t any longer. Now the carousel sits. They once bought tickets for their words each time the volume got a little too loud. There was a time when that carousel spun. She thought it was pretty. She thought she was smart. But it has been years since the ponies leapt. Currency turned foreign. She stopped wanting to watch the words spin. Maybe she got too old and maybe she stopped needing the stimulation that the ride once provided. She no longer thought it was pretty.
He was still angry. She no longer felt smart.
The argument lost its footing because there was nothing left to say. The ride ended. It didn’t matter because he was right. And still angry. She was right too, and sad. And she was sad until she wasn’t any longer.
And there were no longer words to send in the circle.
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