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Description
Recollections of Childhood
Childhood Memories of Jane ______ .

Picture this: I am nine—ten in just a month—and I am sneaking past the ride operator, clutching at Daddy's hand like a lifeline, praying that they won't find out that I'm at least three inches too short to ride on the green roller coaster, the one that lights up and has a loop. I giggle madly as the operator doesn't spare me a glance, and I tug restlessly at the hand in mine, urging my companion to be led toward the back of the ride; anyone with any sense knows that everything becomes faster when you sit in the back. The back is the only part that's fun. We're sitting… the ride is moving, higher and higher… and then we're at the top. The sky is black as pitch, and there are bright pinpricks of light where rides are flashing attractively, lighting up the boardwalk—for a moment I imagine I can see all of Ocean City—and now I'm falling. I scream through my wide grin, whoop for joy as the wind rushes through my hair, and then I'm blinking in surprise as I'm suspended upside down, before the ride rushes on, and all is white noise and flashing lights and pure bliss.

* * *

Picture this: I am ten years old, almost eleven, expecting my Hogwarts letter to come in the mail any day now… and I'm sitting on the hard floor of a Barns&Noble, struggling to keep my heavy eyelids open as the clock chimes eleven. The light inside of the store is yellow, muted, disrupted only when bright balloon-hats flash—and occasionally pop—and dark, pointed witch's hats disappear around bookshelves. Scarves of red and gold turn up anywhere I care to look: around the store's manager's neck, thrown haplessly on the carpet, draped over chairs… the end of one dangles teasingly in my line of vision as I stare determinedly down at some sort of Star Wars book, attempting to read it all the way through without having to purchase it. Sarah would say I'm cheating, but she's not here amongst the bustling bodies and laughing children. The hour slips away, and soon the room is full to the brim, with people spilling out into the streets, letting in the warm summer night's air as the chant begins: "sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven, fifty-six…" I stand up, abandoning my book in favor of the chant, letting myself feel more alive than I ever have before. "TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN, SIX…" All to be seen are cheerful faces, people already jostling for a place in line… and then the confetti bursts.

Description
Recollections of Childhood
Childhood Memories of Jane ______ .

Picture this: I am nine—ten in just a month—and I am sneaking past the ride operator, clutching at Daddy's hand like a lifeline, praying that they won't find out that I'm at least three inches too short to ride on the green roller coaster, the one that lights up and has a loop. I giggle madly as the operator doesn't spare me a glance, and I tug restlessly at the hand in mine, urging my companion to be led toward the back of the ride; anyone with any sense knows that everything becomes faster when you sit in the back. The back is the only part that's fun. We're sitting… the ride is moving, higher and higher… and then we're at the top. The sky is black as pitch, and there are bright pinpricks of light where rides are flashing attractively, lighting up the boardwalk—for a moment I imagine I can see all of Ocean City—and now I'm falling. I scream through my wide grin, whoop for joy as the wind rushes through my hair, and then I'm blinking in surprise as I'm suspended upside down, before the ride rushes on, and all is white noise and flashing lights and pure bliss.

* * *

Picture this: I am ten years old, almost eleven, expecting my Hogwarts letter to come in the mail any day now… and I'm sitting on the hard floor of a Barns&Noble, struggling to keep my heavy eyelids open as the clock chimes eleven. The light inside of the store is yellow, muted, disrupted only when bright balloon-hats flash—and occasionally pop—and dark, pointed witch's hats disappear around bookshelves. Scarves of red and gold turn up anywhere I care to look: around the store's manager's neck, thrown haplessly on the carpet, draped over chairs… the end of one dangles teasingly in my line of vision as I stare determinedly down at some sort of Star Wars book, attempting to read it all the way through without having to purchase it. Sarah would say I'm cheating, but she's not here amongst the bustling bodies and laughing children. The hour slips away, and soon the room is full to the brim, with people spilling out into the streets, letting in the warm summer night's air as the chant begins: "sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven, fifty-six…" I stand up, abandoning my book in favor of the chant, letting myself feel more alive than I ever have before. "TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN, SIX…" All to be seen are cheerful faces, people already jostling for a place in line… and then the confetti bursts.