The Slide

We all have stories that our parents tell and re-tell about us through the years. My story is the slide and my Dad can tell it as if it happened yesterday.  I was terrified of the slide. I’d try to be brave, inching my way towards the edge until I’d freeze in fear. Crocodile tears ensued until my Dad climbed up to save me. 

Finally, one day I inched just far enough (probably on accident) to slide and from that moment I was hooked. Instead of crying at the top of the slide I laughed and squealed, then cried when it was time to leave.

For the last few months I have been sitting at the top of the slide, staring at the long drop, white knuckles gripping the metal bar… afraid and excited. Last week, I let go and remembered how much fun it is to slide.