On Thursday, I went on a water slide for the first time.
(At least, I’m pretty sure that it was the first time….)
Thursday was family night at a local water park, so we took the kids. It was mostly just a really large pool with a couple of water slides. Not really my scene, truth be told, but it made the kids happy.
But, as I swam around, keeping a close eye on Hope, I found myself eyeing the water slides. The thought floated across my mind, “I might be interested in trying that.”
You need to understand that I hate thrill rides of all shapes and sizes. It’s not for lack of trying, mind you. I can distinctly remember all the thrill rides that I’ve tried, and I hated the experience every single time.
Every. Single. Time.
But, this night, I wondered if the water slide would be fun.
I mentioned this to Crystal, and she began to try to talk me into it. She assured me that it was a really slow slide. Arianna joined in, explaining how exciting they were and how she’d almost flipped over the last time and…oops. But the damage was done, and the momentary insanity passed. Water slide? Seriously?
But then, a few minutes later, I changed my mind. Quickly, before my fickle emotions changed on me, I pulled myself from the pool and hurried up the stairs to the top of the slide.
The life guard motioned me in.
I sat down and pushed.
I got stuck and had to push again. (I had a chuckle at my own expense.)
And down I went.
It wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t going too fast…and then it was,
And then, suddenly, I was dunked in the pool at the bottom.
If that was a slow slide, I don’t want to know what a fast slide is like.
I didn’t go again. I didn’t like the experience that much. In fact, truth be told, I didn’t think I would.
But I’m tired of letting fear rule my life and my decisions. I’m tired of being afraid.
And that’s why I went on the water slide.