We were at the top of a mountain in Santorini, Greece. It was my birthday. I was extremely happy, experience the view and cool breeze. I ate my gyro out of my left hand because my right arm was broken.

 

“Breathtaking” I hear my mom murmur to herself.

 

I listen closely to the sound of the waves crashing against the island. The howling wind blew knots into my hair. I see people scrambling at the port gathering fish nets and hauling crates into their bats. I remember the time when we went to England and sat on the hill watching the sunset go down. Me, my mom, and my two brothers stared into the beautiful scenery; green lush mountains with little white clustered villages with blue roof tops and I remember the deep blue sea surrounding the mountains.

 

“Hey look there!” my mom said pointing at a long line of donkeys with tourists crowding around. I began to feel highly claustrophobic.

 

“That would be fun” I heard my mom say as we followed her down the curved path toward the donkeys.

 

Me and my brothers sat on the grass until my mom was finished bargaining with the ruff, dirty looking donkey owner.

 

“Come on” she called out to us with a big grin on her face.

 

Me and my brothers hauled each other toward her. I almost got stampeded by a dozen donkeys. My nerves were on edge.  I clutch my right arm and try to maneuver toward my mom without getting stepped on.

 

“Oh no no no, I am not going on that” I say as I look up at the huge donkey.

 

“Its okay he usually is pretty safe but he likes to fight with the other donkeys once in a while though” said the donkey owner with a strong greek accent.

 

The man picked me up and practically flung me on top of the donkey. My mom balanced me before I fell. My arm ached with pain that was surging up and down. My mom jumped up behind me very gracefully. As soon as we started walking I looked down at the seven-hundred steps we were about to take down the mountain; it was a giant curving snake like path. By halfway me and my mom noticed that our donkey started to slip.

 

“I think you’re slipping a lot” said a woman walking near the low wall off to the side.

 

There were many other tourists walking on the edges because they didn’t want to ride the donkeys. I envied them. I was terrified. I clutched the reins tightly my hands were starting to get sweaty. I closed my eyes and kept saying a prayer after every step. At each step the donkey gave us a big bump. My little brother started screaming and shouting out of pure joy.

 

“Dont shout or the donkeys will get excited” the dokey owner said holding the reign of the long line of donkeys.

 

My donkey started ramming into the donkey in front of me. My mom starts laughing hysterically. I wipe my hands on my jeans. I say another prayer. I squeeze my eyes tighter.

 

“I hate this so much” I whisper to myself. I tried to think of a happier place.

 

I was on the verge of tears; I put my hands over my ears drowning out my familys laughter.I considered whether hiding from my fears or taking them head on was a better choice.  I ruined the whole experience for myself.

 

My little eight year old brother saying “again again” while I was sitting on the ground shaking.

 

I missed out on a once in a lifetime experience; who rides a donkey down a seven-hundred step mountain with a broken arm on their birthday in Santorini, Greece?

I did but I shut my eyes and closed myself off and I didn’t even open my eyes to enjoy the scenery or laugh about how fun the ride was.