The tires of Mom’s old, white minivan grumble along one of the many dusty back roads of Missouri. The car pulls into a large, gravel parking lot and Mom loops around it like five times before finally pulling into one far away out of dozens of perfectly close spaces. I’m so excited that I open the side door even before we stop completely.
“Come on, people!” I say to Krista and Cindy, who are still fumbling with their seatbelts. “You too, Mom!”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” she replies, preparing herself for the long day of impatient children to come. As we walk/pull Mom towards the group of parents and students accumulating around Mrs. Robbins, I think, Now I finally understand what being “slow as molasses” feels like!

After what seems like forever, we make it to the crowd and wait for Mrs. Robbins to finish telling us our plans for the day, “We’re gonna start by eating lunch, then you’ll on the jungle gym, find your way through the corn maze, take a hay ride, and my favorite part, pick out our pumpkins!” Cindy, Krista, and I squeal with excitement and grab our lunches.

“Make sure you finish all your lunch!” Mom tells us.

“We’ll try!” I call back as we run to the gaggle of girls, who are all squeezing onto one picnic table. No matter how much I bite into my PB&J, it never ends. My pudding cup is like an endless well of chocolate, and even my grapes seem to multiply. The “girl table” grows so loud that even the boys turn to gawk at us. Usually, I’d be shushing and quieting them, but today I let it go. Relax Rachel! It’s a field trip day!
While some of the adults help set up the logistics of the day, my classmates and I attack the jungle gym like ferocious animals. We jump, dive, slide, chase, and climb all around. Cindy, Krista, and I start chasing each other in a maze of stacked hay bales, but since it’s so crowded, we head to the corn-filled sandbox. The only people there are Brooke and Ariana, well, Brooke’s face at least. When Krista sees her buried body and her head peeking out from the corn, she jokes, “Brooke? Brooke?! Where are you!”

We all burst into laughter. I guess we’re all slap happy, because even the stupid jokes are hilarious. After a couple of minutes of digging around, we realize that there’s not much you can do with a box of corn, so I suggest we go to the slide.

“Only ten minutes left!” Mrs. Robbins yells.
“Aw, man! hurry! Race ya’!” Krista challenges Cindy.

“Yer’ on!” Cindy yells back, already running ahead. I just walk, and when I pass Mom, she waves me over to her.

“Hey! Let me get a picture of you three up there!” She asks/commands, pointing to the top of the slide.

“Okay,” I reply, clearly not thrilled with the idea of more pictures. “Hey guys!” I call to Cindy and Krista. “My mom wants a picture of us on top of the slide!”

“Okay!” They yell back. As I approach the slide I realize that the only way up is an old, rope ladder, about five feet wide.

“Well,” I say, “we might as well all go at once.” We jump on, and that’s our first mistake. With all three of us climbing at once, the ladder never stops swaying. “Hold on tight!” I yell, sounding as if we’re in war. I make to the top first, welcoming the sturdy wooden platform under my feet. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” I order.

When they reach the top, Cindy salutes me and says, “Sir, yes, sir! Err, umm… Mamm, yes, mamm?”

Once again, we howl with laughter. I remember Mom’s picture. “Oh, yeah!” I get out between giggles. “Picture time!” We pose in front of the slide, sitting on a hay bale and looking down at Mom and her camera. I have a strange feeling that whenever I look at the picture I’ll have “bunny ears” sticking up behind my head. Oh well, I think, Remember: Today’s all about fun!

Finally Mom wanders off, leaving us with the slide. “I call going first!” Cindy yells.

“I call second!” Krista chimes in.

“Fine by me, guys. I call going last,” I say, showing my nervousness.

“Suit yourself!” Cindy says, while at the same time flinging herself down the slide. She laughs the whole way down, but before I know it, she pops up beside the slide, grins wide, and tells us about its awesomeness.
“Okay, my turn!” Krista shouts. Suddenly, she dives into the slide and screams the whole way down.

“Was it that bad?” I ask backing away slowly.

“No, no! Really, those were, um…happy screams!”

“Oh, okay…” I reply, wandering what the difference is between “someone’s about to kill me” screams and “this slide is so fun!” screams. “You guys go ahead to the swings or something. I’ll be right down!”

“Okay, but don’t take too long,” Cindy yells back, a little suspicious.

They leave and I have a quick mental debate about whether I want to try the creaky, metal slide or go back down the swaying rope ladder. Well, either is terrifying, so I might as well try something new. I summon all my courage, sit on the slide’s mouth, and gently push myself forward. Unfortunately, my jeans don’t get much friction on the sleek slide, and I speed off, heading straight for the cold, hard ground.

If I’m screaming, I don’t notice. The ride lasts for about five seconds, but when I hit the bottom, I suddenly can’t breathe. It feels like my lungs refuse to take any air. I start to panic, glancing around for Mom. When I don’t see her anywhere, I really freak out. The same thought keeps repeating in my head: Get Mom! I stand up, fight the dizziness, and wobble over to Bethany and Mackenzie, the nearest people. I’m desperate for their help.

“Bethany! Mackenzie!” I try to say, but all that comes out are hoarse whispers.
I tap them on the shoulders and make a choking gesture on my throat to get the idea across. “Get my mom!”

“Oh, okay! Got it!” and they run off to find her. It’s an eternity before they return with my mom, but really, I know it was only a couple of seconds. Mom calms me and tells me to raise my arms above my head. I do, and whatever was holding my lungs releases and I breathe in the cold, October air.

“Are you okay?” Mom asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine now. All I did was go down the slide!” I say, still shaken. “But I guess I knocked the wind out of me on my landing.” I feel stupid for making such a big deal out of it, but thankfully, Mom doesn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, well, I’m glad it’s nothing too serious!” she replies.

“Yeah, but it was too scary!” I say.

“It was a good idea to find me for help,” Mom says. “But maybe next time don’t panic so much!” She winks at me. “Now go play and have fun!”

I smile and hug her. “Thanks Mom!” And as I run back to my friends, I remember that Mom won’t always be there to help me, but when she is there, I know I’ll be okay.

—Rachel Butz