Randall

August 5th, 1984

"You want some honey, Rando?" Gran asked, as we stood in the honey store. All around us, there was all this honey related stuff, everything from honey wine to books about honey, you name it. Gran, Gramps, and I were in Okotoks, at a honey factory. Gramps had driven us here because none of us really had much to do.

"I would like some honey ice cream," I said. The place we were in sold ice cream of any flavour with honey in it. "I'm thinking chocolate chip."

Gramps got me some chocolate chip flavoured ice cream and got some for himself and Gran. We got into the hot car with its heated seats, and, had a very stuffy car ride to the Big Rock. By the time we got there, I'd already finished my ice cream. The rock was in front of us, with a fence around it.

Gramps parked the car in the parking lot. I got out of it as soon as possible. Wind was blowing in my face, and the heat of the sun burned on my skin. My face was sweating as I ran on the stone ridden path to the big rock, with my grandparents struggling to keep up.

"If it weren't for my rheumatism," Gran called out, the wind distorting her voice, "I would've been running beside you, like I did with your dad when he was your age!"

As soon as I'd jumped over the fence, I ran through the weeds around the rock and up the boulders. I noticed a crack in one half of the rock, large enough for a person to fit through. I walked into the crack, taken aback by the cool air inside it, compared to the heat of the outdoors. I put my hand to the wall, which was even cooler than the air. Slowly, I walked through the crack, finding an exit to it on the other side.

In the corner, there was this opening, equally as wide as the opening of the crack. I climbed up the crack and slipped in. In the distance, I could hear the shouts of Gramps. I think he was wondering aloud where I was.

Inside this sub-crack, there was light at the top, the width of the tunnel being wide enough for me to climb to the top of the rock. I scaled up and poked my head out the opening. Out of the corner of my eye, through the heat of the sun and the gales, I could see Gramps on one side, and Gran on the other, a Polaroid in her hand.

"Stay up there!" she called out. "I want to take a picture."

I still have a copy of the photo, hanging up on my bedroom.

It has always been one of my favourite days.

Marco

Kandyce takes a huge bite out of her hot dog, mustard drooling down her chin as I run to stand in line for the roller coaster.

My sister and I were driven to Calaway Park by our parents. Both my parents had a day off today. I turn to see my parents. Dad's putting his cigarette in the ash tray while Mom puffs out some air, even though it's summer. That means she's also been smoking.

"Don't hurt yourself, son!" Mom shouts, cupping her mouth. Mom's always so overprotective of me.

After fifteen minutes in the line, I finally get to go on the roller coaster. As it's going up, I feel a surge of excitement rush through me. I can't wait to come down. I can't-

Suddenly, the roller coaster goes down, and I'm screaming at the top of my lungs.

"I'M GONNA DIE!" I'm clinging on very tightly to the handles on the cart. Every time it goes up, I think I'll be okay, but when it goes down, I'm convinced I'm going to die.

Finally, the ride on the roller coaster is over. I clutch my stomach and breathe deeply. I head down the ladder, panting with wild eyes. I nearly kiss the ground when I reach it, but that would make me look like a hunk, so I manage to remain sane and not do it.

I'm thinking of going on another ride, but when I reach the spot my parents are, Mom looks at me in the eye, and tells me that Kandyce got sick in the bathrooms, so we're going home...even though I only went on one ride.

On the way home, all I can think about is the fact that a perfectly good day just ended.

And I make sure to tell Mom how I feel. However, the umpteenth time I complain, Dad pulls over and stops the car. He turns to face me.

"Listen young man!" Dad shouts. "You had one ride at the place. Be happy you got that one. If I hear you complain one more time, you're not going there again. Understood?"

"Yes," I say quietly, my throat tightening. I don't say anything for the rest of the day.