I stood in line, chewing my thumbnail, inching my way forward. I watched the people in front of me disappear and then reappear, their faces wreathed with smiles.
I wish I could hold someone's hand.
I stepped forward and sat down. I pulled the harness over my shoulders as tightly as it would go. I looked to my right. A little girl sat next to me, her blond braids frayed, her sunburned nose glowing. "You might want to take off your sunglasses," she said wisely as the attendants walked down the row, pulling at harnesses.
I nodded and pulled them off as the car slowly moved out of the bay. Stuffing them down the front of my shirt, I smiled at her as the car came to a stop.
I really wish I could hold someone's hand.
We sat still, my heart pounding, my brain screaming for me to get off. We sat still, the sounds of children, laughter, screams, roars all muted for a split second. We sat still, my hands sweaty and sliding off the metal bars at my chest. We sat still, the brilliant blue sky a robin egg above my head, the sun pounding down and warming my hair.
I could feel the vibration rise up through the seat. I could hear the roar as the engine started to kick into gear. I swallowed back a lump of fear and held on tight. With a force that pushed me against my seat, the coaster took off, rising through the first loop.
Smiling, laughing, screaming I released the bars, lifted my arms in the air, and let go.
This memoir post was inspired by the Write on Edge prompt: Stephen King said, “The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better.” What an amazing quote. And so very true.
I'm also over at Makes Fun today talking about the Magic Eraser Mop.
17 hours ago