A Moment In Time

When things are just perfect

It doesn’t take much. Sometimes a moment of awe arrives when we least expect it; when we’re not looking for it.

A few weeks ago, my two nieces were in town for vacation. We had invited them to join us for the school picnic at Kennywood Park near Pittsburgh. So, my wife and I planned out how to manage four kids, ages five to nine, at the park. They’re all great kids, but it seemed like a big undertaking to make sure none of them were lost or damaged.

We set out with all four kids and a wagon full of supplies. Had the apocalypse happened while at the park, the six of us could have survived for 14–21 days living with the trolls under the tilt-a-whirl.

None of us had been to any amusement park for almost two years because of the pandemic. For us middle-aged folks, that’s two more years of aging that includes knee pain, backaches, and general creaks and cracks, and the thickening of the inner-ear fluid that apparently makes it easier to get dizzy as you age. (I don’t know what I’m talking about, but it sounds right. Just go with it.)

I was happy to start with small rides. But I knew with only two adults, at some point I was probably going to have to ride something that would make me uncomfortable, because I can suck it up for the kids.

We started easy, warming up with some smaller stuff like Thomas the Tank Engine, The Whip, and the Turnpike driving ride, and then moved on to some bigger things like the Swings, the water ride through the rapids, and a water slide roller coaster thing that soaked us all on an unseasonably cool and grey spring day. Then they even rode some Swingshot thing that threatened to make me sick just watching it.

It’s a good-sized park, and has been around a long time. Lots of fast newer steel roller coasters, and several well-known wooden ones. Some of them are legendary, not only in our community, but nationwide. There’s a great one called The Thunderbolt, which is a blast, The Jack Rabbit, with its signature double dip that makes you feel like the train flew right off the tracks, and a super fun one called The Racer, where two trains race side by side along parallel tracks.

My wonderful niece, Emily, who is now almost a decade old, looked up at me with her clear blue eyes and said, “I want to ride the Racer, but I wanna ride with you, Uncle Chris,” and she grabbed my hand excitedly. It was the way she said it that blew my hair back. She was really counting on me to be solid for her.

“Of Course!”, I answered, hoping I wouldn’t throw up on her.

So we got in line, the two eight-year-olds in front of us, not worried about a thing. But Emily was nervous, and admittedly, so was I. We’re not talking about a giant 80mph steel beast here, either. I remember this one being pretty tame, though it had been at least twenty-five years since I’d been on it.

We waited an anxious fifteen minutes, then finally it was our turn. My daughter and her younger cousin climbed right in towards the front of one of the trains, and Emily and I hopped in a few rows behind them. The lap bar came down, and Emily grabbed my hand. I assured her it would be fine.

The brakes released, and we rolled down to catch the lift chain. The long ascent began, all the while as we stared at the sign at the top with the skull and crossbones reminding riders not to stand or they will die. This freaked me out as a kid, but the girls didn’t seem to notice. We crested the hill, and Emily screamed at the first big drop.

But her scream was actually sheer joy. Her smile stretched from ear to ear, and I didn’t notice the ride as much as I watched her have the ride of her life. I pointed out to her that our train was a bit behind the other train, but maybe we could catch up — almost exactly as someone had done for me 35 years prior. We went around the last few hills and bends, and I don’t remember if our train won or lost. None of it mattered. The ride was over. We climbed out, and walked shakily down the ramp back into the park.

I’ll remember the smile on her face for the rest of my life. I was in amazement of her, and how lucky I was that this all came to be. That I would be the honored one to take her on a real coaster.

The day came to an end and we bought souvenirs for all the kids. We walked towards the exit, everyone tired and wind/sunburned, prepared to sleep in the car on the way home.

As we walked out, with the wagon behind me, I caught a glimpse of a sight I never want to forget. My wife walking with my son, and the three happy little girls walking hand-in-hand together.

So much beauty. So much love.

So much awe for how many things have to go right for me to witness this moment, and for all the love I have in my life.

As I age I realize how infrequently these moments present themselves — when your world really comes together.

When it does, it really is awesome.