Painted faces

 He stood in a field that is barren now, remembering days long passed when the crowd cheered him as he played the part of a circus clown. He closed his eyes and pictured all the colorful costumes, the stage makeup, and brightly painted wagons he called home. He could hear the barkers and vendors selling their goods just outside of the big top as people lined up for the evening performance.

He saw himself so much younger when he first signed on as a laborer with a wish to become a clown. Time passed, and he held onto his dream, watching and learning from some of the greats, and from one particular clown named Emmitt Kelly. Truly a legend whose inner clown was expressed so quietly that the world could only look in awe at his performance.

More time passed as he worked his way into the clown quarters and was allowed to practice his own makeup and a routine he could call his own. He practiced every day, slowly improving, until the day finally arrived when his name was added to the list of full-time clowns. He wore a happy face and flowered clothes, floppy red shoes, and a purple wig. He wore a horn on a string around his neck that he'd blow at unsuspecting guests who would jump up out of their seats laughing and spilling popcorn to the delight of everyone close by. And they called him Mr. Floppy.

As he stood in the field, memories washed over him, and he saw the faces of the other clowns, without makeup or costumes, just ordinary men trying to express a part of themselves hidden beneath the surface of sometimes-damaged souls. But when the costumes were put on and the makeup painted on their faces, the clowns of the circus came alive. Dancing and jumping around the tent, getting both applause and cries from little ones whose parents might find it hard to get them to sleep that night.

He stood in that field, wondering where everyone could be now. Some had passed while others resided in circus housing, a place where help was given and afternoon performances were put on, with shaking hands, putting on makeup, and wigs, ready one more time to entertain. The beep of the van's horn signalled it was time to leave, as he took one more look at where the once majestic big top once stood. He breathed in the smells of peanuts and cotton candy and saw the human cannonball fly away into the clouds he had always pursued.

Come on, Mr. Floppy, the driver yelled. We have a show to put on. hed almost forgotten that every other Thursday, the remaining clowns of the greatest show on earth would visit a children's home where, in full costumes, they would make balloon animals, toot their horns, and throw candy into waiting hands. It meant the world to the children, but also gave the tired old clowns one more chance to paint on a happy face.

Mike 2026