Throughout my childhood I can recall many memories that caused emotional delight as well as emotional devastation. My memories go back as early as conquering my fears of sleeping in the dark to acknowledging I was never going to learn how to skate. Those few examples don't compare to the one childhood experience that still haunts me today. .
I couldn't wait for my family and I to take our annual vacation. It was during those times that I enjoyed myself most. I had anticipated this vacation to be the best. After all, I was going to the greatest place in the world. Little did I know I was about to embark on a journey that would leave a scare in my memory, permanently. The incident took place more than twelve years ago, yet I can recall the date and time as if it were yesterday. The date, Saturday, June 13, 1987; the time, 2:00 in the afternoon. The sun was at its peak and it felt as if it was hot enough to fry an egg in the middle of the street. .
As the large doughy hand reached down to grab mine, I began to panic. My palms began to sweat and I could feel my heart pumping wildly. This giant monstrosity before me was huge. I'd never been so frightened. The closer the hand got to mine the more intense my heart beat. The faster my heart beat the more frightened I became. I could hear my mother's sweet, faint voice from beside me saying, "Go ahead, honey, shake his hand." I remember looking at her and looking at the hand getting closer to me and immediately taking off. I wasn't running to escape fear. I felt as if I was running to save my life. I ran through hordes of people. People were talking so loudly I couldn't hear myself think. I had no idea where I was going. The sweet smell of cotton candy was in the air. I could feel gum underneath my shoes and I could see traces of peanuts on the ground. I continued to run faster and faster. As I continued to run I could hear a song repeating the same words over and over again.
