Years ago, it was a dry summer day, climbing my backyard tree. I went higher than normal; it was colder than normal. But most importantly, it was windier than normal. With one gust of wind, I fell fast and hard; on solid mud that dried weeks ago. My face was broken and fear-stricken. I was young back then, but I knew one thing after that: avoid heights.

Cut to 2018: I'm 9 with my dad in his garage. Working on the rusted beat-up mower. It sputters on the rare occasion it works. We would sit there for hours trying to get it to run smoothly. We never did, but one day we needed a funnel to put in new oil. There was one problem. The funnel was on a ladder. It was about 6 feet off the ground, but to a 9-year-old, it's like being on top of the world's tallest and most shaky tower. I couldn't do it. I was dubious about my ability to climb heights, and as always I was scared. Scared that I would fall.

“C’mon son, just try a little harder,” my dad said. The disappointment I felt in myself still sticks with me today.

Now in 2019: the thought of heights petrifies me. I never dare to go near the tree with solid blood-stained mud. My mom tells me I worry too much about it. I don't think so. I believe that if I go near anything tall only one thing can happen. I will fall, But sometimes for better or worse, you must face your fears. 

2022, my trip to Las Vegas was wonderful. seeing the sights, sounds, and nature. Nevada as a whole was beautiful. Red rocks eroded over the years. sands scarce with green lizards and beetles and salamanders dotting the seemingly unimaginable land. While I enjoyed the strip, I really enjoyed nature, and one piece of nature changed my life.

It was June eighth, 2023. We were moving through the winding rocky roads. Carsick, tired, and scared of the large height I would soon have to face. We were driving for what felt like days. barely any cars in site. As I would drift off the GPS would bring me back to reality.

“DING, 2 hours until you reach your destination” It would do this over 30-minute spans. with the volume of a whistle in your ear. But after a time of holding my breath at every turn. We finally arrived. The first thing we saw made me instantly hate the place. 

“Hey, you see the helicopter tours? we gotta take one!” my mom said, excited for some unimaginable reason. She was never afraid of heights to my knowledge, and I greatly envied her for that.

“There is no way I am going on a helicopter tour.” I replied, shutting down the idea as soon as I could. 

We moved through a gift shop. It was basically a tent with candy inside it. We got nothing. We walked towards the bus ride to the dreaded glass walk. This walk was the thing I was worried most about for this trip. The Grand Canyon's glass walk was a mini glass bridge in the shape of a U. This idea was terrifying. Suspended over a chasm impossibly deep. Fear builds, and my legs start shaking to even think about it. 

So we loaded onto the bus. Leaving the safety of our candy tent. I was filled with so many emotions it was hard to single any out but two. Fear and the tiniest bit of excitement. For some reason wherever there's fear, there's always excitement. 

When we arrived at the glass walk, the thought in my mind was that this glass walk would be no different. Possibly worse than walking on shards of glass. The bus screeched to a halt. Letting out a scream of pressure. Dropping to ground level. In a single file line, we all walked out. Towards a long winding line, back to back sweating exhausted people. Now combined with the fear of heights. was the stench of B.O. 

After approximately one hour and thirty-five minutes. (we timed it) we reached the front, and put scrubs on our feet. Because god forbid somebody smudges up the death drop. We moved step by grueling, stomach-dropping steps. We reached a door and beyond it, some glass and a drop. The wind was fast, and loud. The thought of a tree, solid mud, cold weather, and hot stinging pain flood my mind. 

“I can’t move,” I whispered, barely audible under the wind. No one heard my reluctance. So I was pushed, possibly by the crowd, the worker or someone else I don't know. But I was pushed and without warning stumbled onto a glass deathtrap. 

My mind repeated over and over again a silly childish Mantra of fear. I was gasping as if my lungs were depleted of oxygen for years. But then something clicked. I wasn't falling anymore. In fact, I never was. I looked around. Legs shaking, half adrenaline half human. I realized how beautiful the Grand Canyon really was. For the first time, like I did so many other times in Nevada. I found the beauty of the Grand Canyon. 

I walked the skywalk no longer looking at the fall below me, but the nature around me. And luckily that remained a constant throughout life. While my fear of heights wasn't going anywhere. I learned how to conquer it and come out better because of it. Without the Grand Canyon, I most likely would have lived my life the same, afraid to go anywhere near heights. Nevada was amazing, but the Grand Canyon changed my life.