Do you remember the first time you put me on your shoulders? How I whimpered and nearly pulled out your hair for fear of falling? You told me not to yank, to hold on to your neck. And then you turned blue because of my young death grip. Just let go, you told me. I won’t let you fall. Watch. And you removed my arms from your sore neck and lifted them up into the air. See. You didn’t fall. And I didn’t. It was then that I understood I had the best seat in the house. And you would never let me fall. Dad, don’t ever let me fall.
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