Little me.

When I was young, I used to skateboard.

I was not afraid.

I used to fly down big ramps and up half-pipes, uninhibited by the fact there was nothing gluing me to my skateboard except gravity.

I was not afraid.

I'd wear a helmet until my hair got ratty, and skate around in the skate park, and down the street, uncovered by pads, knees marked with the times I landed wrong or fell.

But I...I was not afraid.

I remember, standing at the top of a ramp in a concrete park called Shadyside, and a teenager, or maybe a little older, guy asked me how old I was. When I told him, he yelled to his friend "Hey, we've got an 8 year old skating with us!" Like it was impressive.

I was not afraid.

I'd dress in baggy jeans and DC t-shirts, and walk with my head up because I could keep up with the boys, just fine. My brothers were probably annoyed.

But I was not afraid.

My cousin broke his arm while he was inline skating and still. I rode around on my skateboard like I knew what I was doing.

And I was not afraid.

When I look back at little me, with my ratty hair and baggy clothes, playing Tony Hawk on my Gameboy, gliding down the neighborhood streets on my skateboard, I admire her fearlessness.

And I...I will strive to reclaim that fearlessness.