If you follow both of my blogs, you may have already seen this. But, I felt it was important to put the information in both places.
When I was a very small girl, Dad and I went on a carnival ride. They called it the Octopus. Maybe you’ve heard about it and its ridiculous tentacles. I was terrified throughout the ride, but the end is most indelibly impressed in my memory. I remember lying on my back as the ride came to a stop. We were at the top, so very, very high up. Gravity pulled us earthward. My small, sweaty hands slid on the metal safety bar. I could feel my back slipping across the fiberglass seat.
“I’m going to fall!” I screamed.
“No, you’re not.” Dad said in his most matter-of-fact voice. “You’re fine.”
“But I’m going to fall!”
“No. You’re strapped in, you won’t fall.”
I felt myself slip a little further. “I’m falling!”
If I hadn’t needed the air to scream, I would have been too afraid to breathe. Why didn’t he…
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