Posted on June 5th, 2013
his week, two of The Three joined the circus.
It’s only for the month. They can always come home if they want to (and they do, every afternoon, without fail), but part of me hopes that they will stumble on something they love doing so much that, on the occasional day, they wonder if it would really be all that bad if they didn’t—like Neverland, but with stilts.
The circus hides in plain sight here in Albuquerque, disguised as a month-long camp organized and sponsored by the National Hispanic Cultural Center. In its fifth year, Circo Latino welcomes children eight to 12 to spend the day juggling, clowning and riding unicycles.
As I listened to Roy and Peaches talking over each other on the car ride home after their first day, I wondered if I would have been as joyous about hanging upside down and swinging from one thing to another at the same age. I don’t think so.
On Roy and Peaches’ auspicious, first day of Circus, another circus came to perform for the fledgling performers. A travelling troupe of imaginative players, the Dreamtime Circus provided the children with a dreamy glimpse of the real-world athleticism and artistry that could grow out of play they had begun to engage in that very day.
Peaches liked that this particular circus could tell a story while the players performed their tricks. She didn’t know a circus could do that.
Before the artistry unfolded before the audience, a woman spoke to the children about creating art and the opportunity to return year after year to make beautiful things—through movement, music and words—to the spot in which they found themselves now. It made me happy to think of my Three returning in some number to create and explore, migrating creatures in search of a safe place to make their art (and juggle).∗