An Excerpt from:
Life Starts on Tiptoes
***
Lights flash, buzzers blare, bells clang, and shrieks of delight engulf us. Terence’s eyes explode in wonder. The flashing neon lights turn his cheeks into a kaleidoscope of colors. The excitement is infectious.
Terence stands oh so tall, stretching higher than ever. The boy secretly lifts up on his tiptoes. He’s doing everything in his power to touch that plywood finger – the one that reads you need to be this tall. His hair brushes the sign and he rockets up, nearly dislodging the sign. He grabs his head but doesn’t stop, he sprints ahead fast. He’s beyond excited.
**
Maybe it was my first step or first word, I don’t remember those. But the first milestone I do remember was in this exact spot, at Funland in Rehoboth.
Like Terence, I too lifted up on my tiptoes to reach that same, albeit repainted finger. I’d have done anything to get on that pirate ship ride, with all those screaming kids. The big ship swung so high up, how it didn’t dump them out, I didn’t know. The ruckus started at the very first jolt and climaxed at the apex, where the kids flapped their arms high in the air and squealed in glee! I had to get on!
I too cheated, I had to! When I finally sat on that cold bench and that metal bar locked against my lap, I thought I’d burst. The ship swung low and slow at first, it was going to be great! The huge ship rolled back and forth, gaining speed with each pass. As it approached that first summit, I let go to waved my arms high. At the apex, I was lifted clear off my seat. Terror slammed through me like lightning. That thin silver bar was the only thing keeping me from plunging to my death. I panicked and clamped down on that bar with all my might. Like everyone else, I screamed, but mine wasn’t one of excitement, it was an uncontrollable scream for my life.
**
As I chased after Terence, milestones raced through my mind as if my life passed before my eyes. One year after that momentous ride, maybe two, my dad let me walk by myself to the boardwalk ice cream stand. I felt so grown up. Sure, I was nervous but I didn’t tell my dad. I laugh now remembering how I thought I’d hidden my apprehension with a stoic facade.
I had exactly enough money in one pocket and “emergency” money in the other. My mom explained emergency money to me twice. I remember nodding but I was too excited to listen. I didn’t walk, I ran to the Double Scoop and had to stand on tiptoes to reach the counter. As if in slow motion, that perfect scoop of strawberry, a flavor I agonized to pick, listed. I clenched my teeth, eyes wide, and watched as it toppled off the cone, glanced off my toothpick leg, and smashed onto the boardwalk. I panicked and snapped back to the lady behind the counter who frowned. I forced my tears back, though my lip began to quiver. I willed myself to be the ‘big boy’ my mom had just called me. . . . . . .
An Excerpt from:
Life Starts on Tiptoes
***
Lights flash, buzzers blare, bells clang, and shrieks of delight engulf us. Terence’s eyes explode in wonder. The flashing neon lights turn his cheeks into a kaleidoscope of colors. The excitement is infectious.
Terence stands oh so tall, stretching higher than ever. The boy secretly lifts up on his tiptoes. He’s doing everything in his power to touch that plywood finger – the one that reads you need to be this tall. His hair brushes the sign and he rockets up, nearly dislodging the sign. He grabs his head but doesn’t stop, he sprints ahead fast. He’s beyond excited.
**
Maybe it was my first step or first word, I don’t remember those. But the first milestone I do remember was in this exact spot, at Funland in Rehoboth.
Like Terence, I too lifted up on my tiptoes to reach that same, albeit repainted finger. I’d have done anything to get on that pirate ship ride, with all those screaming kids. The big ship swung so high up, how it didn’t dump them out, I didn’t know. The ruckus started at the very first jolt and climaxed at the apex, where the kids flapped their arms high in the air and squealed in glee! I had to get on!
I too cheated, I had to! When I finally sat on that cold bench and that metal bar locked against my lap, I thought I’d burst. The ship swung low and slow at first, it was going to be great! The huge ship rolled back and forth, gaining speed with each pass. As it approached that first summit, I let go to waved my arms high. At the apex, I was lifted clear off my seat. Terror slammed through me like lightning. That thin silver bar was the only thing keeping me from plunging to my death. I panicked and clamped down on that bar with all my might. Like everyone else, I screamed, but mine wasn’t one of excitement, it was an uncontrollable scream for my life.
**
As I chased after Terence, milestones raced through my mind as if my life passed before my eyes. One year after that momentous ride, maybe two, my dad let me walk by myself to the boardwalk ice cream stand. I felt so grown up. Sure, I was nervous but I didn’t tell my dad. I laugh now remembering how I thought I’d hidden my apprehension with a stoic facade.
I had exactly enough money in one pocket and “emergency” money in the other. My mom explained emergency money to me twice. I remember nodding but I was too excited to listen. I didn’t walk, I ran to the Double Scoop and had to stand on tiptoes to reach the counter. As if in slow motion, that perfect scoop of strawberry, a flavor I agonized to pick, listed. I clenched my teeth, eyes wide, and watched as it toppled off the cone, glanced off my toothpick leg, and smashed onto the boardwalk. I panicked and snapped back to the lady behind the counter who frowned. I forced my tears back, though my lip began to quiver. I willed myself to be the ‘big boy’ my mom had just called me. . . . . . .
An Excerpt from:
Life Starts on Tiptoes
***
Lights flash, buzzers blare, bells clang, and shrieks of delight engulf us. Terence’s eyes explode in wonder. The flashing neon lights turn his cheeks into a kaleidoscope of colors. The excitement is infectious.
Terence stands oh so tall, stretching higher than ever. The boy secretly lifts up on his tiptoes. He’s doing everything in his power to touch that plywood finger – the one that reads you need to be this tall. His hair brushes the sign and he rockets up, nearly dislodging the sign. He grabs his head but doesn’t stop, he sprints ahead fast. He’s beyond excited.
**
Maybe it was my first step or first word, I don’t remember those. But the first milestone I do remember was in this exact spot, at Funland in Rehoboth.
Like Terence, I too lifted up on my tiptoes to reach that same, albeit repainted finger. I’d have done anything to get on that pirate ship ride, with all those screaming kids. The big ship swung so high up, how it didn’t dump them out, I didn’t know. The ruckus started at the very first jolt and climaxed at the apex, where the kids flapped their arms high in the air and squealed in glee! I had to get on!
I too cheated, I had to! When I finally sat on that cold bench and that metal bar locked against my lap, I thought I’d burst. The ship swung low and slow at first, it was going to be great! The huge ship rolled back and forth, gaining speed with each pass. As it approached that first summit, I let go to waved my arms high. At the apex, I was lifted clear off my seat. Terror slammed through me like lightning. That thin silver bar was the only thing keeping me from plunging to my death. I panicked and clamped down on that bar with all my might. Like everyone else, I screamed, but mine wasn’t one of excitement, it was an uncontrollable scream for my life.
**
As I chased after Terence, milestones raced through my mind as if my life passed before my eyes. One year after that momentous ride, maybe two, my dad let me walk by myself to the boardwalk ice cream stand. I felt so grown up. Sure, I was nervous but I didn’t tell my dad. I laugh now remembering how I thought I’d hidden my apprehension with a stoic facade.
I had exactly enough money in one pocket and “emergency” money in the other. My mom explained emergency money to me twice. I remember nodding but I was too excited to listen. I didn’t walk, I ran to the Double Scoop and had to stand on tiptoes to reach the counter. As if in slow motion, that perfect scoop of strawberry, a flavor I agonized to pick, listed. I clenched my teeth, eyes wide, and watched as it toppled off the cone, glanced off my toothpick leg, and smashed onto the boardwalk. I panicked and snapped back to the lady behind the counter who frowned. I forced my tears back, though my lip began to quiver. I willed myself to be the ‘big boy’ my mom had just called me. . . . . . .