A letter from Sep 23rd, 2021

Dear FutureMe, I wrote this narrative in 9th grade. It'll be fun to read again ;). “Watch out, hole!” I yelled. My sister sped down the icy slope, but she couldn’t see the small dent in the snow. She hit it head on, then flew out of her sled. I laughed as she stood up, scrambling out of the way as another sledder shot past. “I tried to warn you!” I yelled down to her. “What?” She called back. I shook my head, heading to the top of the hill. My dad was about to take off on the old fashioned wooden sled we found at a thrift store. “Can I ride with you?” I asked. “Sure,” he replied, scooting back. I sat on the sled, and we took off. The wind ripped at my face, making me thankful for the scarf I had around my neck. We hit the same hole my sister did. We didn’t fall off, but it hurt. We were getting dangerously close to the huge hole full of leaves. My dad used his feet to steer. We barely missed it, and I screamed, laughing. We turned like a NASCAR driver so we were going on flat ground, then stopped. “You should try on your own,” my dad said as we puffed up the hill. “I think I’m good,” I told him, “I like the other one better.” I was referring to the foam sled with a slick plastic bottom. You could go down headfirst on it. “Come on,” he said, “You would go so fast.” “It hurts so bad to go over the bumps!” I told him. “No pain no game,” he told me, “Don’t be afraid.” “Fine,” I said, grabbing the old wooden sled. I stomped up the hill like an elephant, setting the sled on the less steep part. I sat on it, but didn't take off just yet. I felt like this was a bad idea, but I wanted to see what would happen.I took a deep breath, then pushed off. I gained speed at what seemed like an impossible rate, the sled making snow fly into my face. I squinted as the cold snow blocked my vision. I felt myself slowing down, eventually stopping, and the wave of white slowly lessened. I jumped to my feet, pulling the sled behind me. “That was awesome!” I called up to my dad. I ran up the hill, setting the sled so that I would be going down the big part of the hill. “You going on the big one?” he asked. “Wish me luck!” I said, pushing off. This part of the hill was much steeper than the part I had just gone on. I put a hand in front of my face to block the snow. I hit a bump, and I tottered on the sled, losing balance. I corrected myself just in time, then steered around the big hill. Now, there was a vital detail that I didn’t know about. At the bottom of the hill was a bunch of trees. In front of the trees there was a big pile of leaves. Normally, your sled would stop when you hit them, but, with this sled, the two rungs just glided right over them. I realized too late that I wasn’t going to stop. I didn’t have time to roll off. I squeezed my eyes shut. There was a tremendous crash, like metal falling on concrete. When I opened my eyes, I was in a very uncomfortable position. I was wedged between a tree and a pipe. Not a metal pipe, but one of those big black plastic ones. My leg was propped up on it, and I was sitting on the ground. I was pretty much stuck between the ground, the tree, and the pipe. Luckily the tree wasn’t fully grown; it was about five inches in diameter and had soft smooth bark. The sled was on top of me. At my side was an old wedge of concrete that was digging into my hip. I shoved the sled off of me and it fell with a clatter, then grabbed a tree branch. I pulled with my arm, using my leg to pull myself out of the small space I was wedged in. I rolled onto the sled, then stood. I was definitely going to have some bruises tomorrow. I dragged the sled out of the trees, walking back onto the open hill. My dad and sister were running towards me, and I walked over to them. “Are you ok?” my dad asked. “I like my sled better,” I told him.