Day 4

1.Evaluate a significant experience or achievement that has special meaning to you. (Harvard)

The logs forming the base of the bridge rested on giant boulders. The walkway of the bridge was made of rotting wooden planks that sagged and patches of dirt that filled the holes between them.

 The river roared past, 15 feet below but it seemed like a thousand.

I was in the middle of the Indian Himalaya, away from even the smallest of villages. And I needed to cross that bridge. 

I had walked for so far that day, uphill and across many dangerous sections of the trail from where the hillside was washed out from landslides. I had been walking for days and was exhausted.

I snuck to the back of the group to watch the others I was hiking with cross first. For them, it was fun and easy. Some waltzed across the bridge gracefully with their heavy backpacks on. I envied them.

 As they crossed, one by one, I started crying quietly by the rocks, wiping my tears discreetly so no one would know. I was so embarrassed, but the truth was, I was so frightened of that bridge. I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me.

Finally, my time came. I pulled on my heavy backpack (because I could cross just like everyone else) and I started walking. I walked. Slower slower slower. My body shook with fear. I leaned forward more. More. More. And then I slowly came to a stop. In the middle of the bridge. In the middle of the river. I was on my hands and knees, shaking. The heavy backpack on my back felt like could sway me from side to side, leading me down… down… down… into the river. The wind was gusty, and I felt like a tree swaying from side to side so forcefully that at any second I would break.

I crawled across that bridge as I stared at the roaring water below, and then I finally made it to the other side.

Others were laughing and talking about how exciting the crossing was. I just stood quietly, ready to keep hiking. I knew how close I had come to falling.