A carnival rolled into the town early in the summer. The nights were heavy with the warmth of the hot sun, but the cool wind from spring still blew in occasionally at night. I was young, but old enough to know life is full of more than just happy nights at a carnival.
The lights from the carnival tents sparkled against the darkness of the summer sky, filling it with a soft glow. The smell of cotton candy permeated the air with a soft, almost tangible sweetness. The carnival pulsed with the blood of excitement, beating with each breath of energy and life.
That was the year I rode my first roller coaster. I don't remember ever being happier or more terrified than I was on that ride. I paid my ticket to the man behind the gate. He unlatched the gate and swung it open. With each step, my shoes stuck to the spilled soda slowly drying on the pavement. The vinyl seats were cracked in the middle. I sat down. I pulled the bar against my lap and held onto it. I wasn't scared. I was nervous because this was my first ride on a roller coaster, but I wasn't scared. I knew this would be something I would remember for a long time.
The wheels
creaked. The car lurched forward. My heart sped up. The first hill was tall, like a wooden planked mountain. The car pulled me higher and higher. I had never felt such anticipation, such anxious
excitement at what was coming next. As I looked out across the horizon, now so big and open, I thought how happy I was to be sitting in that car right then. Then the car went down. It sped up faster than I had expected. It took me by surprise and took my breath away. I felt my heart sink with the sudden change, but within moments I was high again. Over and over, the highs and lows came. Until the ride stopped.
As I got off the roller coaster and left the carnival, pulsating with its ever-breathing energy, I knew this was one ride I could never forget. I never will forget.
