Marina Muradian

That time I was 40 inches

The strange big ruler that you wish to fill all the way to the bright red top. That grueling 40 inches that your head finally lightly tapped. 

The anticipation, excitedness, and worry all tied into my aching stomach as I walk into the roped area. You hear  people wail, their screams accelerating after each sudden drop.

2 and a half hours of waiting felt like long years

Just  to obtain 2 minutes of abrupt movement and shrill screams. 

The short young man in the neon green vest directs you into the cramped orange car and latches a burning black lap bar onto my tiny pale green shorts.  

You grab your mom’s arm with great distress, which feels like the tightest grasp, you let go of worrying you’re hurting her. Your knuckles turn bright white and beads of sweat make a quiet appearance. 

Finally the man presses a big blue button and all of the sudden my hair is flying and my mouth is curved into an O shape with hollering laughter. 

Its over, Its over, Its over 

That one piece of time that I can’t get back. 

I walk out past the green vest boy and past the ropes jumping and pulling down on my moms arm.   

I think to myself I want to ride every single rollercoaster in the world with hope that I can reach that bright red bar at every single giant ruler.