Grace, 13My weary feet keep stumbling on the loose shingle. In my throat my breathing is ragged. The weight of my pack is heavy against my shoulders. I trudge along behind my brother with my head down, carefully choosing where to next place my feet. The landscape changes from loose stones to solid rock and I climb like a mountain goat over the mounds. I look behind me and see rocks receding to reveal glassy lakes. Distant mountains brood in the background powdered with snow. Dad glides effortlessly over the land, and my sister is silhouetted against the glacier. It's like i'm on top of the world.