I took my children to an amusement park today. They love the rides. The higher and faster – the better. I’m not one for ‘thrill’ rides.  In fact, I’m not one for rides at all anymore. They terrify me. Even with my eyes closed, my heart races, I sweat and can’t catch my breath.

When JJ was a child I took him to Sesame Place in Pennsylvania.  Although I hoped that seeing Ernie and Big Bird was enough, his eyes lit up when he saw the roller coaster.  I hedged, he begged, I broke down. Reasoning with myself that the coaster wasn’t very high and if it’s safe enough for a 3-year-old it’s safe enough for me, I begrudgingly boarded.

We climbed in the car and I pulled him close to protect him from what I thought would frighten him. JJ wiggled away from my arms and grasped the bar holding us back. He was beaming with excitement and grinning from ear to ear.  As the car slowly climbed I snuggled closer to him, sure he would want to cover his eyes and huddle when he realized we were headed down – fast.  That moment never came…for him.

As most amusement parks do, a photo was taken when our car reached the top, seconds before the speedy decent. Now mind you, the ‘top’ wasn’t very high but you couldn’t tell from the photo. My arms were tightly clutching JJ and I was crying. His arms were tossed high in the air and he was smiling. I’ll never live that down.

This weekend I watched with both feet planted safety on the ground as JJ and Lara sped over tracks of hairpin turns and vertical drops on an adult roller coaster. I heard their joyful screams seconds before they came careening around the turn with arms flung high and bright smiles lighting up their faces.

I felt a deep contentment. There is nothing like the pleasure of seeing your child ecstatically happy. I was grateful, and amazed that such a simple experience could bring them such intense joyfulness. Nothing crowded their minds but the moment.  And the moment – to them – was euphoric.

As they faded from view my thoughts turned bittersweet. I tried to remember when I’d felt that kind of joy. I couldn’t. I sifted through memories and mentally sorted through my life’s highs. But life’s lows rushed up to steal their thunder pulling me down – fast. I smiled to myself as I realized that even with feet planted firmly on the ground, I too was riding, my personal emotional roller coaster.

As my children rounded the corner for another pass, they were still screaming, arms still flung high and still enjoying the ride. Ascending slowly, they taunted me as they motioned that they were headed for the top and the inevitable decline. But their eyes were wide with anticipation and their faces alight with grins.

Their laughter and delighted screams were washed out by the coaster car as it thundered down and rounded the last turn. I stood there hoping they’d never lose their childhood ability to experience nothing but innocent happiness.  But I realized that was a futile wish.

Much like the roller coaster, life is a series ups and downs, hairpin turns and quick stops. But what I could hope for was that they always enjoy the ride and continue to take the swift changes of direction with their arms held high and a smile on their face.

As the coaster cars rumbled to a screeching stop, I waited for them to rush off and wondered which ride we’d be headed for next. However, beaming with excitement, they ran to me and in unison bunny-hopped yelling, “Can we go on again?”

“Sure….go ahead,” I answered, thinking it would be good life practice for the ups and downs to come, and hoping one day they’d see the correlation.