And the Summer was Not Over

I have this recurring memory: every first Friday of the summer I am sitting on a baby boat, swinging up and down like a parabola, feeling the warmth of the sun. The wind blowing through me, giving my inner organs new life. The ride starts off slowly but as I go down, I can feel something ticklish, slowly but constantly providing me with weird but good chills. I turn left to see my nine years old sister showing off her half crooked teeth and to my right a girl around seven and somewhat my age scared and waiting for the ride to end. Even at the fastest pace, I manage to see my mom, who is trying to look happy and excited but indeed is scared and hoping that the ride does not unbuckle from the support wheel. I wave at every stranger on their way. The overwhelming experience of sitting on the ride brings out an uncanny side of me. I start to create stupid noises, which are so loud that my sister has to hit me and make me stop. But I don’t. I keep tapping my foot and moving side to side even though the passengers were strictly banned to do so. I can feel my heartbeat racing because of the pleasure of joy and excitement the ride gives me. Those five minutes flew by so quickly that when the motion of the boats comes to a stop, I find myself sad and disappointed, for I know I cannot afford another one.  

    Before the next summer ride, I make myself a promise to save my money so I could at least get two rides. But, making promises are easier than completing them. Another year goes by and my sister and I are already ready to make our way to the boat. With the baby boat in my sight, I run as fast as I can so I could get the best spot. While I make it to the seat, I look behind to see that the owner is talking to my mom about something. I yell at my sister to come take the spot next to me, but she doesn’t. Being nine years old, I cared for nothing but the ride and was okay with my sister not being on it with me at that moment. I look around and saw a boy next to me. His face was pale and I could sense the fear of heights in him. I try not to laugh but a small giggle comes out of me. I looked outside and weird, happy, and loud noises made they way out of me. I waved at strangers and showed my wide smile. While some smiled, most of them were really annoyed. As the motion of the ride slowed and the ride came to an end, I walked behind the boy towards the exit and the next thing I know is that he has thrown all over the exit of the boat. I looked disgusted but happy for if he threw up while the ride was on, then I would have not been able to complete my ride. I ran as fast as I can to my mom and said,

“Mom, it was so much fun. Did you see me? Did you look how high it went? Did you see the boy throw up? I can’t wait for the next year. I loved it”.

While I was sharing my excitement and joy, the owner was grunting, for he had a lot of cleaning to do then.

Another year comes to an end and this time my dad took me to the ride. Ten minutes before the time of departure, I yelled at him and said,

“Come on dad, you’re gonna make me late. If I miss it, you’ll have to give me two rides”.

I could see how he excited he was to take me as we never had the chance to spend summer together until them. Moment we parked our car, I rushed outside and I went running to get on the ride when the owner stopped and asked,

“How old are you, dear?”

I smiled widely and said,

“I am ten”

He looked displeased and told us that we cannot go on the ride. At the moment, I didn’t know what to say. I looked at him and then to my father, back and forth,  hoping that someone would laugh and say that it was a joke. I stared for a while and realized it wasn’t. I felt as if a dagger was just stabbed at me from the back. The pain was undeniable. For most of my childhood was connected with the boat. As the ride starts, I sense tears dropping down my eyes as I wasn’t on it and maybe will never be again. I heard people laughing. I heard some screams but even in those noises, I missed the sound of those weird voices that I used to make. I hugged my dad asking him to allow me just for once, but he said I was too big for that. I could feel my childhood vanishing right in front of my eyes. I could see people enjoying the ride but not me. I could feel my heart broken into millions of pieces. I wanted to scream, shout, and cry. Tell them that I am not big enough. Tell them that I must ride, maybe just one last time. Tell them that I miss it. And tell them that my summer was not over.