Our family, at this stage, is similar to the freakiest roller coaster you've ever been on. You feel pumped up and excited on the first uphill push with adrenaline soaring through you, you reach the plateau for an ever so slight chance to breathe and take in how beautiful the view is, when, like you never expected it, you're reminded that an uphill also means an excruciatingly terrifying downhill ahead of you. You turn around for a split second thinking you might be able to yell down to the operator to convince him to put it in reverse, only to see the carts behind you full of people who are, wether you like it or not, connected to you and in no mood to have their adventure ruined. You turn around knowing that there is no way out of this thing and that you better just suck it up and scream your brains out like everyone else.
Of course, roller coasters always have the same route, the same track underneath that doesn't change course. Ours doesn't. But I do suppose, like most rides, there is that same guy in the back with an understated calmness. He smiles and allows the rushing wind of the descent to chisel his features ever so slightly and he closes his eyes in delight like he's done this a million times and has nothing to fear.
Maybe that guy ends up on every family's ride somehow. Maybe I should keep looking for his picture flashed up on the screen at the exit of the ride. Maybe I should learn from him how to stay calm in the midst of chaos.
From America with love,
Ali
