The blood in my body races like horses on an open prairie. I see the drop in front of me, mesmerizing and yet dangerously frightful. All around me the snowy woods lie silent. A gentle breeze dances across the top of evergreen trees every now and then, causing snow to fall upon the top of my helmet. Icy snowflakes fall upon my lips, melting as soon as we make contact.

My board lies still under my feet. It eggs me on to go, to jump, and free fall, but I don’t move.

“Come on, Ethan,” it says to me. “You can do it.” But I don’t know if I can. Can I? It’s a long drop, and I’m very little. I know what to do but can I?

“You can,” it says again. “Just believe.” I don’t know if I do. I want to. I want to so badly. Why am I so afraid? I’ve done this before, not on something this high, but it’s not much different. So why can’t I do it?

“Let me help you,” my board says to me, this time with a casual swagger. “Just believe and let me do the rest. Are you ready, Ethan?” I look down. My board edges forward and begins to slide smoothly across the white powder. The snow beneath melts like the snowflakes that touched my lips. It has no chance, but I do. I know I can do this. Butterflies rise; they begin to flutter up and out of my stomach then I’m off.

This is why I love it. I love this feeling of cutting through the air with the wind in my face, the cliff behind me, and the snow below. The butterflies have fluttered away as I land gently onto a huge pile of soft white snow. I pat my board on the nose and glide out of the glades onto an open slope. My fear has gone. It has melted, just like the snow