“Can we please do it again? Please?” My mother looked at me, dumbfounded. “No way,” she replied. “When I saw you go upside down, I thought you were going to fall. You know how I feel about roller coasters.”
“Oh, Mom, you are so cautious. Stop being so worried.”
“Oh, all right,” my mother breathed.
Ahhhhhhh. How I loved that steel carriage; the rushing wind that made me feel like a bird, the racketing of the cars along the tracks, and my screams of excitement, all came together at once. Freedom, that’s what pushed out of me on that day. My wild-jungle-like outrageous personality that jumps out of me when I am done with school work. That personality that was fighting, fighting to get out. Finally, it burst through, in a frenzy. This was me when I lurched upside-down. This was me when I run. This was me when I play. Now on that coaster, I was feeling that combination all over again. My heart was beating wildly. This was me. This daring, screaming, and full-of-energy boy. That day in the amusement park was one of my few days to show who I really am.
When I walked back into school, a few weeks later, my serious mind fought back. My willingness to learn and my love for school fought back, my smarts and my skills, fought back, they teamed up, locked up my other personality, and threw away the key . . .
That is until next summer!
Ahhhhhhh. How I love . . .