My Special Place 

 My perception of growing up was a scary one.  I would wither into a cold and empty being, never feel the rush of laughter, genuine smiles, and the warmth that embraces me when I truly feel happy. I was a little girl when I first started pondering what it meant to grow old, and in Rust, Germany, October 2012 was when my realization in the making began.

Rust is a little town in Germany, and is home to the most heart-fulfilling place in the world: Europa park. Every year starting in 2012 for my birthday, my parents would take my brother and I to this theme park. It had the most wonderful rides, food booths, and a halloween theme that made me feel like I was starring in "The Nightmare Before Christmas". I remember staring at the miniature groups of people far away in the sky as they screamed with delight on the highest loops of the rides. At the happy groups of people walking around with huge candy floss clouds in hand. No matter how young or old they were, everyone had a smile on their glowing faces. It truly was magical. 

My mom and dad understand more about the realities of the world. They know fairies don't exist, or that there aren't such things as talking frogs and squirrels. And even deeper than that, they deal with cruel and complicated things throughout the year, while my brother and I go to school with our friends. And considering all of that, they still manage to enjoy the park just as much as we do. I remember my dad the night before we got to enter the park, and every year he would say the same thing. "I'm waking you all up at 7:00 so we can be at the front gates by 8:30," he would tell us. He was so eager to be the first to get there, before any of the other people. His smile would stretch from one ear to the other, as he would start tickling my brother and I until we were laughing so much we could barely breathe. "STOP!" we would both yell, kicking and squirming in his arms. 

My mom was also always doing everything in her power to make my brother and I have the most wonderful experiences. I remember looking at the other pretty girls, seeing their glittering face makeup painted perfectly on their faces. I wanted to get mine done too, even though my family was more about the rides, and less about the booths. But as I looked inside one of the warm wooden huts, the kind artist beckoned me in. My mom, grinning, whispered "Let's both get our faces painted," and my heart swelled up. She helped me select one of the looks, a blue starry sky with a moon and outlines of trees, with a sparkly blue lip. She got the same exact one, and I felt so happy, and close to her. I hoped she too could see how special the moment was, in that cozy hut that smelled like pumpkin pie. I loved that my mom got her face painted with me, and that we were matching. She looked so pretty, and I felt pretty too. And although I was a little young to think about this at the time, this was another one of those little things that our parents do that makes you want to be like them when you grow up. It makes the idea of being older more enjoyable, less scary. The fact that she was so willing to have painted her face with me was magical for me as a kid, and I hope it was just as magical for her to see me smiling along with her.

Later that day, we heard the megaphone saying that all rides would be closing in 5 minutes. We had all glanced at each other, and we knew the plan. "One last time Dad? Please?" I asked. His mischievous grin was the only answer I needed. At this late hour, everyone would be trudging back to the hotels. Not us. We all started sprinting towards the "Blue Fire", the ride with the huge loop and all the twists. In just three minutes, we had gone from one side of the park to the other. We were each driven by the same thing: excitement. I looked to my left and my mom and dad were running beside me, and my brother just ahead. Anyone else would have looked at us and thought that we were crazy. But I thought, so what. We're happy. I could hear my mom grabbing my dad and laughing because she was falling behind, and I was shrieking with joy. The adrenaline was making us all giggle like little kids. As we got to the entrance of the ride, we saw that the line was empty. But, the ride operator signalled us in, with a grin on his face. We moved up to the little gates that open when it's your turn to ride, and rushed to the 4 spots at the front. Our efforts got us a front seat ride. We sat down, looked at each other and laughed at how perfect everything had turned out to be, while waiting to feel the wheels turn underneath us. "Look mom!" I would say, while shifting to the corner of my seat and putting my hands out of the ride, pretending that I was falling. My mom would yell at me to stop, making the rest of my family laugh. I dangled my legs as we kept going up, up to the top. It's hard to describe the feeling, but overlooking the world from such a high point, seeing the mass of people that you will soon be a part of when you reach the ground once again, and being next to your loved ones, makes you feel so safe, suspended in the most perfect sliver of time. Before, of course, you plummet to the ground. My ears were flooded with my mom's screaming, and my dad's loud laughter as we fell to the ground. I raised my hands in the air and enjoyed the last few seconds of the moment. 

And, as I grew up, my perception about youthful happiness changed. I kept returning here with my family, and seeing the excitement on their faces as we walked from the hotel to the theme park, made me realize something. Just because I'm older, doesn't mean I can't have fun the way children do. The way children marvel at the smallest, most simple things in life that release the most intense levels of euphoria. That belongs to me too. And my mom. And my dad. And that realization comforts me, because I believe that it's scary to grow up, and to fall out of love with your favorite things from childhood. But, as I discovered, not all is lost. So now, as I grow up I know that my interests will change, but there will be moments where I will feel like I'm on top of the world, exhilarated with the feeling that I was afraid to lose. Seeing my parents happy, the way I did in Europa Park, made me realize that these emotions and feelings... they never age.