We remember those days, sliding down the powdered snow as fast as the pine trees blurring shades of evergreen in the distance, the icy gust unable to freeze our faultless smiles.
Underneath the rush of youthful happiness, of frightened, yet innocent happiness, we felt life, and love, and dreams, like a contagious energy, an ecstasy of perennial living, flowing through us faster than the adrenaline of going downhill.
We laughed, and lived and loved, careless; our impetuous actions more reckless than the dense snowflakes blurring our vision.
Life felt human, and alien; love felt human, and alien; we felt human, and alien; yet, we went along, sliding rapidly towards the horizon, like a pendulum on the fresh bedding of snow, moving from left to right, occasionally crossing paths, with every brief encounter, knowing that this, too, will soon end.
We weren’t afraid, we thought.
We are fearless warriors, risk-taking explorers, passionate lovers, audacious dreamers.
After all, isn’t the hardest part always the first push, that moment when we face each other and ask, are you ready, and it all feels numb, and scary, and a little bit wild.
Yet, we plunge. Together.
And we slide, and we feel human, and alien, and we don’t let the icy gust freeze our innocent smiles, and we laugh, and we feel love, and dreams, and life, and alive, the adrenaline.
And only then, we realize, that not even the steepest slope can sometimes prepare us for what lies at the bottom.
In that brief moment when we look back at the peak, now standing there, all mighty and tall, infuriatingly grim, cold, and distant, we feel like imposters, happy-go-lucky dreamers impersonating happiness.
Impersonating love, and dreams,
The fear is there. We fear before the plunge, and during, and after, and thinking about it, and while celebrating it.
We fear life.
And the fear feels more human than alien, although we wish the opposite.
And no amount of adrenaline could ever shield us from it. No amount of love, and dreams and life, could make us feel less vulnerable.
Yet vulnerability feeds on fear, and fear shields us from love, and dreams, and courage, and life.
Standing in front of the peak, we ought to be like the snow, fearless, trusting that the ground is cold enough for the flakes not to melt upon meeting.
Courage feels more alien than human, perhaps, although we wish the opposite.
Yet, it’s the only thing that can push us, from the peak and all the way down, through the brief moment at the base, don’t stop, and then back up again.