Short lived Courage

I climb to the top of the damn mountain- by “climb” I mean stand without a railing on a moving escalator holding on to an inner tube. I get to the top and peer down the suicidal snow hill. A six year old boy hops on his inner tube and flies down the hill fearless as a coyote stealing s’mores from a camp sight.

I let about sixteen more kids by before sitting on my tube. They snare at me with righteous indignation. “Sissy,” they say with their eyes.

I finally sit on my tube- push myself off and wait for the world to fly by like a frightening whirlwind.

I move.


And then it happens.

I’m at the bottom- tush wet- still breathing.

I sit there for a moment staring behind me at the tall hill that I just came from. Proud of myself despite my severe fear of heights-

Bite me hill- I got this.

I’m feeling accomplished, bad ass, wickedly courageous till my kid says-

“Mom- you did great- tomorrow we hit the hill on skiis- standing up-”

Just when you think you beat your fear- there it is rising outta nowhere taunting you like a little prissy girl- a little pain in my ass, snooty, hoity- toity arrogant, stuck-up brat.

So am I going skiing tomorrow?

Hells yes.



One comment

  1. tamar d · January 21, 2015

    Nailed it is right. Conquering a fear like that is courageous. Go you.

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