I remember walking my way back to school, feeling my skin tingle from the cool, wintery air. I always took the same route back to my house, on the same sidewalk, where all the same houses were located. These houses were all relatively new, with our family having only moved in two years ago. My neighborhood would constantly expand to new unclaimed territory to accommodate new houses. The bus station that I had come off of was at this odd point.You could see clearly where they had expanded the street, the age difference from the houses that were newly built to the ones that were decades old.
I took one step at a time looking straight at the sidewalk which was as fresh and as white as unopened chalk. The trees were all young and weren’t tall and bulky. On any normal day, walking along this newly developed street was pleasant. It was enjoyable feeling the serenity and quietness that came from a suburban neighborhood. While I was still walking, I could see that right in my direct field of vision was my house, along with my family surrounding our minivan.
“Hurry up!” yelled my sister, “You’re so slow!”
I remember then
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When I looked down, it was just a cloud of white fog. My sister was the first one down, followed by Louie and then Kevin. Immediately, they were covered with the thick immense fog. I realized immediately that I had to follow them. I stabbed the ends of my poles in the hard snow, and felt my skis start to glide forward. Gravity was having me steadily gain speed; eventually, I could feel the wind brushing against my face and see the trees zip behind me. I tried to maneuver my skis from side to side, moving in a sort of S fashion. Yet as a young, relatively inexperienced skier, the amount of speed that I felt was overwhelming. I attempted to keep control and ski in a zigzag, all while having fear constantly in my mind . Yet as I kept going down faster and faster, I inevitably loss feeling and