I stood at the top of an impossibly steep slope, looking down at the tiny skiers dressed in bright colors who swooped down the mountainside like birds of prey. My own skis felt like an extension of my legs, and no longer felt like heavy logs strapped to the bottoms of my feet, and I felt only eager anticipation at the thought of flying across the icy snow.

Taking a deep breath, I thrust my ski poles into the soft powder and pushed myself off my perch at the top. With a few more shoves from my poles, I was racing downward towards the little brown dot that must have been the ski lodge, faster than anyone else, quickly overtaking the colorful skiers. My scarf trailed behind me, giving the impression of wings as the wind roared in my ears. My form was perfect, and I felt as if I had limitless power.

Heart pounding against my chest, I watched, exhilarated, as the other people stared after me as I whizzed past. They were all clearly awed at my grace and skill.

But that wasn’t really me. Just a dream I’d come up with as the freezing gusts of wind and sharp, pelting bits of ice and snow that? flew through the air forced me to pull my chin as far down into my scarf as I could, making me look like a cautious turtle with a blue, bulky winter coat for a shell.

Shivering and mustering up my courage, I looked down the biggest hill I’d ever descended on skis. The bunny hill.

Oh, the name was deceptive, alright. The name brought to mind images of adorable, little, fluffy rabbits bounding down a gentle hillside, but no! This slope was treacherous, and I needed more time to compose myself before I launched myself down it like those pre-schoolers next to me.

Looking around me, I winced, realizing that I was the only person over ten years old.

Okay, I thought, that little boy can’t be more than three. If he can do it, I can do it. Not that I have any choice, since the ski lift only goes one way.

I took a large gulp of air that made my lungs feel like they were freezing over and shuffled awkwardly past a ski instructor and her small group of children.

“Hey, everyone! So, I want you guys to make your skis look like a slice of pizza, and make big, wide turns down the bunny hill. Think you guys can do it? Let’s go! Izzy, you first,” the woman said, smiling brightly.
A young girl in a frilly pink coat made her way up to the start of the hill, barely hesitating before she began to slide forward as her teacher had instructed. I made sure I watched her every movement, making mental notes on the way she held her ski poles out in front of her and carefully swept through her turns.
“Excellent!,” the instructor cried, “Next!”

That didn’t look so bad. Maybe this was manageable if I just went a little slowly. Shaking a little, I waddled forward.

Angling my feet the way I’d seen the girl do, I leaned forward and began to slide. For a wonderful moment I was swooping down the mountain like the skier in my daydream, feeling like I had wings that were poised to take off into the snowy gray sky at my command.

  And then I fell. Hard.

The bird feeling disappeared as my hip slammed into the ice and my legs shot up underneath me, ending up in a tangle of skis and limbs. My knees hit the ground sideways, and I ended up sprawled on the ground, body throbbing. My momentum sent me skidding down the hill despite my attempts to slow myself by clawing at the snow, and a ski pole skittered away from me.

Finally, I came to a halt. I could tell my hip was going have a nasty bruise in the morning, and there wasn’t a single part of me that didn’t pulse with dull pain. Nothing seemed to be seriously injured, though, and I started to wiggle about, trying to figure out a way to unhook my skis from one another.
  A herd of little kids swished past, looking at me curiously. More than a little humiliated, I blushed and tried to act like nothing had happened.
Their teacher swished over to me, my lost ski pole in hand.
“Are you alright?,” she asked.
I turned an even deeper shade of red. Had everyone on this mountain seen me completely wipe out on the bunny hill?
I muttered that I was perfectly fine, thank you, and that I just couldn’t figure out how to get back up again. Shifting my knees to a more natural position, I looked up at her, hoping that she would take pity on me and give me some help.
The woman seemed to know the way to get my skis straightened out, and she spent five minutes or so explaining how I should move my legs and stand up without falling back down again before she left me to fend for myself.
I managed to follow her instructions, and got myself standing again, but then had no idea what to do. Obviously, I would have to make it the rest of the way down the slope, and I was quite a bit closer to the bottom thanks to my slide, but it didn’t look any easier than it had when I was standing at the top. Not to mention I had lost just about all self-confidence. Now, even the youngest skier near me might as well have been an Olympian.
The childish part of me felt a bit like crying, but I could see that I was hardly the only one who had fallen. In fact, there were several other kids who were lying in all kinds of strange positions, though it didn’t look like they had kept moving after they hit the ground since they were a lot lighter than me. None of them had tears in their eyes. They even looked like they thought their fall had been fun.

I eyes with my sleeve, trying to dry them and calm myself down a little, before sweeping my gaze across the mountain, in search of a little motivation to get me going again.

I watched as a girl with pigtails that stuck out under her helmet fell five times in a row, coming up laughing every time. A boy in a Spider Man jacket spun out of control, yelling gleefully as a concerned parent tried to keep up. A little kid in neon pink ski pants slammed into a tree before falling backwards. She didn’t even look fazed!

Maybe I’d just been thinking about skiing the wrong way. Instead of assuming that if a toddler could do it, I could certainly do it just as well or better, maybe I should think that if a toddler could fall down and look ridiculous in front of twenty of his peers and still laugh it off, I could make my way down this bunny slope, tripping and toppling over as much as I pleased, without feeling badly about myself either.

Taking a deep breath, I stabbed a pole into the snow behind me and gave a little push to get myself moving. My skis scraped along the snow, and I slowly moved forward about a foot before coming to a stop.
So far so good.

Cautiously, I checked the hill for out of control children before shoving myself onward a little harder, hopefully to get a little farther along.

Before I knew it, I had made my way across the wide slope and was starting to make my first turn.
Oh so carefully, I turned my knees so that I would curve back. I was gripping the ski poles so hard that it hurt, and my shins ached from being pressed against the front of my stiff, gray ski boot. I was less concerned about the embarrassment of falling down in front of other people after watching the other kids, but that didn’t change the fact that I’d rather have avoided another tumble, since my hip still really hurt.

Just as I was thinking that I had gained some more control and that I was finally getting the hang of it, I plowed into a mound of soft powder. My arms flailed as I tried to regain my balance, but I still tipped until I was flat on the ground for the second time in less than ten minutes.

Some of the soft snow got caught inside my gloves as I skidded some more down the mountainside. This time I didn’t keep moving for as long, nor had I fallen down as hard since I had been moving more slowly, but my hip still twinged as I slowed down.

Remembering the kind woman’s instructions, I wriggled around until I got to a place where I could stand up without sliding further downhill, but when I looked around, I realized that it wasn’t necessary. I’d reached the bottom of the bunny hill.

I had felt like crying before, but now a laugh bubbled up in my chest. Even though I couldn’t have skied more than fifteen feet, I had made my way down the slope that had seemed  so daunting and terrible when I’d been standing at the top. From the bottom, everything looked a lot less threatening. I couldn’t believe I had fallen almost the entire distance! I must have looked hilarious! Imagining myself with my long legs going every which way next to a bunch of graceful, serene pre-school skiers, I giggled before turning and waddling back over to the ski lift.

If I was ever going to be as good as the girl in my daydream, I would have to get used to falling and start practicing more. Not that I minded, anyway. Really, once I’d gotten over humiliating myself, it had been rather fun.

As I was lifted back up to the top of the bunny slope, all I could think was that those little kids I’d seen had a lot to teach me, but I was going to work on my skiing until I was as good humored as they were.