"Woah!" was the only utterance that could escape from my mouth. I was suspended fifty feet in the air over a white abyss, my body dangling in the air. There I was, hanging off of the first ski lift I’d ever been on, ascending my first ever "bunny" slope, hoping to snowboard for the first time. My body gave new meaning to the expression "hanging by a thread," because I was hanging by my head. But how did that happen? When the ski lift began going up the mountain, gravity happened to exert a force (as it always does) on my body that eventually exceeded static friction, causing me to slip under the lift's bar. Fortunately, my sister and cousin were able to catch me… by my skull, and after a screeching halt coupled with some shrieks from worried on-lookers, the operator was able to put the lift in reverse and safely return me to good old terra-firma. While my body swayed in the air, my only concern was finding the ground beneath my feet; I hadn’t the slightest idea how this event would come back to affect me later in life.

When I got back and met my parents at the bottom of the mountain, I was extremely embarrassed. Not only did I want to leave, I never wanted to see snow again. I was relieved, however, to see my parents. They, too, were relieved to see me. But after that initial sense of relief came the inevitable: "Are you nuts?" yelled my mother. "You're kidding, right?" my father added, as if I purposely fell out of the dangerous contraption like a baby bird testing its wings.

A bit discouraged, to say the least, I decided I would stay at the bottom of the mountain and just watch my sister and cousin descend the bunny slope. Then, out of no where, something extraordinary happened. For the first time in my eight years of existence, my sister said something very meaningful to me, "Keep your head up Stevie." So that's exactly what I did.

I grasped the ski lift tightly, made it to the peak of the slope, and dropped in. With a newfound resilience, I sprang back from my previous blunder and succeeded.

Nine years later, I was faced with a similar situation: the road test. A license was something I’d always dreamt of possessing, so I signed up for a driver's education course as soon as I gained eligibility. I went on to practice driving twice a week for a year just to pass the test. And then, on March 9, 2013, I took it. And I failed. My first thought was one of defeat. But my second thought was a flashback. “Keep your head up, Stevie.” I went home, thanked my sister, and told my dad we needed to up the ante. I practiced twice as often for twice as long, and less than a month later, when I knew I was ready, I signed up a second time. Shortly thereafter, I went back to the road test center with my head up and came out with a license.

Everyone falls. At the bottom of the slope, where I sat with my head hung low, my sister imparted to me the most important lesson I could have ever hoped to learn: falling is inevitable… but it is not about the fall; it’s about the recovery. It’s about keeping your head up, about coming back and trying again. So when I failed my road test, I wasn’t worried about the fall. My mind turned immediately, instinctually to getting back up.