Fears....

It was dark. It was cold. It was windy.

I was strapped down. So was my son. I could just barely reach him to reassure him I was still there. I couldn't see his face. Normally he is so chatty and loud, but now he was quiet.

The day had started off with promise, but rain and cold quenched that. After some deliberations we set off to do exactly what we had wanted to do first thing. I found myself now wishing we hadn't.

I was scared. Afraid. My mind racing through all the ways this could end, all of them bad. I was afraid for me. I was afraid for my son, for I had encouraged him to come along. I told him it would be fine. He believed me. Now I couldn't see him.

We were up high. 205' high, looking down at the ground with nothing underneath us. I knew that if anything happened to my son I would never forgive myself. Then we fell.

Riding the Griffon at Busch Gardens is always exhilarating. Hanging at the top I always feel like I've made a foolish mistake. At the end of the ride I can't wait to go again.

Riding with my son was a whole different experience. I was afraid for him. Was he buckled in right? Was he really big enough? Was he really afraid like I was afraid for him? There was nothing I could do about any of it. I hated that feeling. All the way down the drop I was ready try and snag him if he came loose.

This wasn't his first time on this roller coaster. He had been with his mom at the end of summer. He wouldn't ride it last year, even with me trying to bribe the sense out of him. Now I am thankful.

At the end of the ride, just as we stopped, he said with confidence and youthful vigor, "That is my favorite ride." All was well, and my fears eased...

...until next time.