Dangling my feet off the green metal chair, I look down at the icy white snow-packed ground. The fallen snow in the Upper Peninsula is as soft as a pile of marshmallows, and it melts on my fingertips and drips down my hand. The sun reflects off the shiny ice as I arrive closer and closer to the top. I take a deep breath, enjoying the cool air on my neck, and peering out past the horizon at the blue-gray sky. It looks almost like a painting, but I am truly living it.

     Arriving at the top, I grasp the rusty metal bars and prepare for landing. The bars appear frozen, but my gloves keep warmth between my hand and the pole. My skis push off the chair and I glide off onto the ground. The quiet atmosphere of the Whitecap mountains allows me to rest at the top, peering down at the microscopic ground below. I feel peace, calmness, self-aware, forgetting about the troubles of yesterday, not worrying about the concerns with tomorrow. This was the steepest one, yet the fear left my body. My heart pounds in and out, and I could feel my warm breath heat my goggles. My sister slides up next to me. 

   “Ready?” she says as she looks at me with one plastic pole in each hand, staking them into the ground. “Go slow, this one’s tough.” 

   Before she has a chance to catch up, I take off, each stride brushing against the powder, bending my knees to keep balance. I see my sister trail behind, taking her time as the sun creeps its way to noon. The trees cast dim shadows against the bright snow.

   Rushing down the intense hill, I make every contact with the ground intentional. The faster I become, the more and more I realize why my sister wants to take it slow. This beautiful moment allows my eyes to become watery. The tall, bare trees begin melting together into one image, the painting becoming a blur. 

   “Be careful, you’re gonna-” 

   Before my sister had another split second to finish, I feel my feet lose control of their placement and my two skis close in. I grasp ahold of my poles tightly as I leave the powdery floor below me. I feel my ankles give out and my legs become parallel to the ground. On my back, I look up, peering into the bright sky, the clouds like cotton candy. There goes that sun again, so blinding to the human eye when it reflects off the icy surface. 

   My sister, snickering at me, tells me I should have slowed down. Her movements, so brisk but graceful, catch my eye as she skis closer. I allow myself to relax my hands and cushion my head on the snow, my puffy attire warming me. She slides up beside me as we stare at the sky together, and take note of its beauty.

   “Just me, you, and nature,” I say, putting my arm around her.