Expedition

I’ve been looking forward to a school snowshoeing expedition for the last couple weeks that would fall on my half birthday—a day off from school to get fresh air and play in the snow, and a way to mark the fact that in six months I will be eighteen.

But by the time our group rounded off the second mile, I was exhausted and cold, the two-pound metal shoes causing my feet to sink through the snow instead of walking on top of it.  I was barely keeping up at the back of the line when Mrs. Cavalero told us all to turn around and head back to the picnic area we’d passed an hour before, and as I hurried after the other kids I tripped and fell face-first into the snow.

One thing they don’t tell you about snowshoeing is that you can’t get back up on your own.  It’s like roller skating: your feet get all tangled up under you, and if someone else doesn’t come to your rescue you have to crawl over and hoist yourself up with a tree branch.  So I just laid in the snow, too tired to crawl away, feeling sorry for myself and thinking about how stupid I was to sign up for this.  I’m not athletic—I can barely walk to the store, let alone hike up a mountain with metal contraptions strapped to my feet.  I should have just stayed at home and worked on the pile of homework I already have.

When I finally got up onto my knees, I found two boys hurrying back towards me.  Josh and Darby, the two appointed pack leaders, had been racing each other all day in an attempt to be first, but they’d both come back to help me.  They pulled me to my feet, but when I stumbled again and landed back on my knees, they did more than just that.  They linked arms and carried me.

I don’t know how hard it is to carry someone while wearing snow shoes.  I can’t imagine it’s easy.  But they carried me halfway back to our lunch tables, and even when they put me down again they stayed there, putting out a hand whenever I missed a step.  They didn’t ask for anything in return, just conversation and an easy laugh when they broke out in a mini snowball fight.  And when I lent Darby a quarter to buy coffee, he gave me a high five and exclaimed, “I love people!”   

You know what, Darby? Me too.

Thank you for showing me what kind of person I should be.

-Amanda