The Day I Finally Went Down That Slide

I looked at each rung, one after another, as I followed my six year old gaze slowly up towards the top. I placed one hand onto the first rung only to pull it back. I would climb a few rungs up the ladder only to change my mind at about the fourth rung before quickly coming back down.

The tall silver slide loomed high above me as I stared at it from the ground. This was the tallest slide on the playground. The one you see the bigger kids going up and down on over and over again. The kind of slide when it’s hot enough, it feels like you’re going down an aluminum baking sheet and if you’re not paying attention, you’ll slide full force down the slide, go airborne, and land in the dirt (or a big mud puddle if it just rained).

This slide also had a cover over it very much like a treehouse. I’m sure a lot of kids used it as a hang out spot or a place to conduct their secret clubs.

I saw other kids, albeit, bigger kids at the park going down that slide. Why couldn’t I climb those steps and go down the slide just like the rest of them? I was six years old. Surely, I was a big kid!

Whooosh!

Like that.

I brushed off my frustration and settled on one of the smaller slides. Maybe I’d swing instead. Maybe I’d work up the courage to go down the slide next time.

The next time I went to the park, the slide was still there and it loomed high above me just like before.

My parents or the adult family members that took me to the park were very observant on my hesitancy to go down that slide. They also picked up on my deep down desire to go down it as well.

Isn’t it frustrating when you let fear get in the way of you genuinely wanting to do something?

This time around, an adult stood below me, easing me up, one rung after another, as I slowly made my way up to the slide. I hesitated a few times, even backing back down before ultimately continuing on thanks to the reassuring support of a trusted adult.

Today would be the day I would finally go down that slide.

At long last, I had made it to the top. I stood inside the covering of the slide looking down below to the waiting adults below. I felt a sense of accomplishment. I took in the wooden covering of the slide sure that many secret clubs from the bigger kids were conducted here. I’ve never made it this far up before!

Except there was one thing. I still needed to go down the slide. My excitement of making it this far up was quickly overshadowed by hesitancy and fear once again. I got as far as sitting down as I looked down at the silver slide below me and the grown up that waited.

It looked like a loooong way down.

To look at it from a child’s perspective, sitting there, ready (or not quite so ready!) to go down that slide was to the likes of preparing to zipline or maybe even jumping out of a plane to skydive.

Okay! Maybe comparing it to skydiving is a little extreme, but to my six year old mind, going down that slide couldn’t have been too far from it!

I inched my bottom forward slightly towards the edge as the family member that was helping me down the slide reached up to help guide me. I inched even closer towards the edge until …

Whoooosh!

Partially guided down by an adult, but all me, I finally went down that slide. I went down just like the rest of them!

After that, while the slide still loomed high above me, it didn’t seem so scary anymore.

The next time I see a young child hesitant about going down the slide at a playground, the incident of how I was afraid myself will always come to mind.