“I’ve never been on a Ferris wheel,” I said. We kept holding hands even though it was a little sticky. I didn’t want him to let go yet. Maybe he would hold onto my hand a little bit longer. I realized that I didn’t know when he would think he was too big to do that any more.
“Really?” he asked. His grip grew a little tighter as we walked across the bumpy sand.
“I don’t know why I have been so afraid to go on one. One day I went on a roller coaster three times. A Ferris wheel seems less scary than a roller coaster.” I stared at that Ferris wheel. The closer we got to it, the bigger it grew. The sun bounced off the shiny parts as it moved. My fear started to bubble up inside of me again. I wondered if we should wait and go another time.
“You’re right, Mama. A roller coaster looks a lot scarier than a Ferris wheel. Remember when we were at home, and you were scared to go down the big slide at the pool? That wasn’t even scary,” he giggled.
“I know! I don’t like rides. One year at Whiz Bang Days, I didn’t even go on any rides, but I threw up when I got home anyway, just from watching my friends twirl around on the scrambler.”
“I like rides,” he said. The thin shadow of the wheel blocked the sun. As we climbed inside the car, it wobbled back and forth. We strapped ourselves in, and a man closed the gate. We lifted up, but just enough to let the next car get filled with passengers. The higher we went, the more we could see. There were only a few clouds to freckle the sky; the only blemishes on the ocean were the swimmers close to shore. We slowly circled around and around. Not one butterfly made my stomach flutter.
“Look at the blue umbrellas,” he said.
“They’re all in a straight line,” I said.
“Are you scared?” he asked, as he looked at my hands holding onto the bar in front of us.
“No! This is so much fun.”
After we got off, we went right back on again! Around we went, and towards the end I held his precious hand.
This post was prompted by Red Writing Hood @ www.writeonedge.com