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ALONG FOR THE RIDE

We race through streams of mud, looking like bank bandits,
our bandanas fastened around mouth and nose. Open-air
vehicles, look like skeletons, and the roar of its engine leaves
no room for conversation. But I exult in each bump, thinking
the best splash is this one, no this one, not even close. My
mind on the excitement and joy my husband feels, his
adventurous heart stirs mine. Not always so, but he has
elevated me - I hold his hand on mountain peaks. 

One first ride — the banana boat, yellow and with
mischievous eyes, carrying youthful passengers
with brunette and blond innocence. They ask
the guides if there are any sharks. They chuckle
saying, “Of course! We are in open ocean.”

So our ride begins, and we bounce, spin, faster
and faster until they purposely throw us out
of the boat, and I no Spring chicken. My body
contorts and I’m afraid I might have hurt my back.
I glare at my husband — the kill shot. 

Twice more our guides toss us out. By the third time
I’m resigned to the fact and have gotten over my terror.
And you see, I never gave the sharks a thought.

6/4/2019

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