Radio flyer

 I made it to the top of the hill, towing my new sled behind me. An original Radio Flyer sled was every kid's Christmas wish, and this was my year. A fresh snowfall in the night brought five inches of snow, turning the landscape bright white and ready for the neighborhood kids to climb the hill with their new sleds, while others brought saucers, all anxious to tackle the highest hill for miles.

It was well known that not everyone could reach the top, so a portion of the hill was reserved for little kids who dreamed of the day they'd conquer the giant. Until then, they stayed clear of the sleds racing past them at breakneck speeds.

As I stood at the top looking down, I felt a lump in my throat, and my heart was pounding as a couple of my buddies joined me, out of breath but eager to take their first run down the hill, which now looked like a toy village with tiny figures and small houses scattered about at the bottom.

It was time for me to suck it up and get ready. I laid down on my stomach, carefully placing my hands on the wooden steering bars, gripping them as tightly as I could. However, deep inside, I knew they wouldn’t do much as the sled transformed into a rocket ship, veering down the hill so fast that tears froze on my cheeks. I pushed myself forward to the edge, and with a nudge, I was speeding down the hill faster and faster, praying I wouldn't crash into a tree or, worse yet, another kid.

When I reached the bottom and came to a stop, I rolled off my Radio Flyer and looked up the hill to see my buddies jumping up and down, applauding a job well done. I don’t know how many times I tackled the hill that day and in the days that followed, but my trusty sled never let me down.

As winter passed, the hill seemed smaller, and my legs began to hang over the sled, but I kept climbing the once-scary hill. Eventually, the lump in my throat went away. I loved that hill, I loved my Radio Flyer, but mostly, I loved conquering my fear as I sped toward the toy village below. 

— Mike, 2025