If you are feeling fine, can there be anything wrong with you?

Why do eagles soar so high when their prey crawls on the ground? What happens to an eagle born with just one wing? Does it starve, lamenting its fate, or does it survive, making the most of its circumstances?

These thoughts swirled in Sarah’s mind as she gazed out her bedroom window at a pair of eagles gliding effortlessly through the sky.

Her eyes then drifted to the prosthetic leg leaning by her bed. Today was going to be a daunting challenge. Unbeknownst to her mother, Sarah had enrolled in a trekking expedition to the Himalayas as a 22nd birthday present to herself. When her mother had graciously told her she could choose any gift, she never imagined her daughter would be bold—or crazy—enough to pick a journey which involved dragging herself up a 10,000 feet mountain, on a prosthetic leg.

As the only child of a single mother, Sarah had grown up in a protective bubble, and being born without a limb only made that bubble thicker. Although her loved ones never made her feel different or less capable, she could always sense their hesitation whenever she tried to push the boundaries. Today, however, would be a potentially bubble-shattering moment.

Sarah strapped on her leg, put on a determined smile, and took a deep breath to summon every ounce of her courage. She found her mother on the balcony, sipping a cup of coffee. That was good; caffeine tends to make difficult conversations a bit easier.

Sarah tiptoed up behind her and wrapped her in a playful hug. "The devil’s finally up. What mischief is it planning for today?" her mother teased, trying to suppress a smile.

"Nothing that Mama Devil can’t handle," Sarah shot back, but then thought better of calling her mother a devil, considering the delicate nature of her request. She quickly softened her tone, adding a smile and her best attempt at puppy eyes.

"Remember, Mama, how you said I could have anything I wanted for my birthday?"

"I already regret it," her mother sighed

"Well, save your regrets. I’m not planning to bankrupt you—at least not yet," Sarah winked.

"I’ve actually bought myself a very thoughtful gift. And the best part? You won’t have to pay a dime. I saved up from my tutoring classes."

"Now I’m really worried. If you saved up, that means you didn’t expect me to pay for it, and you probably knew I wouldn’t be too thrilled about it," her mother deduced.

"Before you go all Enola Holmes on me, Mama, I’m not doing anything illegal."

"Illegal in the eyes of the law or in the eyes of your mother?"

"Why don’t you decide that while I get you a coffee refill?" Sarah suggested, hoping a refueled caffeine boost would make her mother more receptive.

As she stirred the coffee, Sarah explained the trekking expedition, how she had saved every penny for it, and how character-building the experience would be. When she finally mustered the courage to look at her mother, she was met with a mix of anger, concern, sorrow, and helplessness.

"Are you out of your mind, Sarah?" her mother burst out. "I worry about you just crossing the street, and you expect me to let you go wandering into the mountains alone?"

"I won’t be alone, Mama. There’ll be ten other people with me. And I’m not a child, nor am I helpless. I bet I can do more push-ups than my friend Ria, and her mother doesn’t stop her from gallivanting around the country making reels," Sarah argued, her feelings hurt.

"Ria has all her limbs intact, Sarah."

"Not for long if she keeps dancing in the middle of the road."

"You’re being childish. You were born different. You may not want to hear it, but you ARE weaker. You NEED help. I can’t let you go scrambling up a mountain with no one to hold onto," her mother replied, tears welling up in her eyes.

"But, Mama, I don’t FEEL weak. I don’t FEEL helpless. I need to do this for myself—to prove to myself that I can live as fully as anyone else. I’ve seen pictures of you rowing boats, climbing hills, diving from planes—don’t you want me to experience the same wonders of life?"

The debate raged on for hours. Sarah tried every form of persuasion and emotional blackmail she knew—skills she had, after all, learned from the master herself: her mother.

By dinnertime, Sarah had finally won. Her mother begrudgingly agreed to let her go but not before calling the trek organizer to extract a promise to keep a close eye on her daughter. She also obtained the phone numbers of every other participant and their mothers.

In the days leading up to the trip, Sarah would hear a dozen more "Are you crazy?" "You can't do this," "You're going to get yourself killed," "Something's wrong with you," and "Are you absolutely sure?" from friends and family. The skepticism was relentless.

Even the housemaid had a cautionary tale to share. She recounted a detailed story of a headstrong girl from her village who, despite being handicapped, defied her parents to move to the city for work. The girl was eventually hit by a bus and paralyzed for life. "That’s what happens when you challenge your fate," she concluded, her voice tinged with a knowing finality.

But Sarah refused to let these warnings shake her resolve. She carried on her preparations, with a tune in her head like a drumbeat propelling her toward battle.

On the night she was to board the bus, her mother was a bundle of nerves. Despite the flutter of anxiety gnawing at her own stomach, Sarah managed to muster a brave smile for both of them. She waved her mother goodbye, trying to convey a confidence she wasn’t entirely sure she felt.

This was the first time she’d be traveling so far from home, completely on her own. During the 10-hour journey to the base camp, doubt crept in more than once. There were moments when she seriously considered getting off the bus at the next stop and heading back home. But the pitch-black night and the unfamiliar surroundings kept her in her seat. Eventually, exhaustion overtook her, and she drifted off to sleep.

She awoke with a start as the alarm on her phone blared, momentarily disoriented. It took her a few minutes to remember where she was and why. Fear surged through her, but when she drew back the curtains of the bus window, it was quickly replaced by awe. There, in the early light of dawn, stood the majestic Himalayas, their snow-capped peaks glowing gold in the sunrise.

As the bus came to a halt, Sarah felt a whirlwind of emotions. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the unknown. The door swung open, revealing a group of trekkers milling about, some stretching, others chatting animatedly. Apprehension surged within her as she stepped off the bus.

Would they see her as different? Would they judge her for her slow gait? She hesitated momentarily, scanning the crowd. But as she approached the group, she was met with smiles and welcoming gestures. One woman holding a bunch of trekking poles stepped forward.

“Hey there! You must be Sarah! I’m Meera,” she said, her voice bright and inviting. “We’ve been waiting for you! Ready for an adventure?”

Sarah’s anxiety faded away. She joined the group as they began introductions, each person sharing their reason for joining the trek. One by one, they revealed their insecurities, fears, and hopes—suddenly, Sarah felt part of something bigger.

As they set off, the trail wound up through lush greenery, the air filled with the scent of pine and wildflowers. Sarah fell into her own rhythm, her gait steady though slower than some of the others.

The trail steepened, and her breath became labored. She fell behind, watching as the others forged ahead. “Am I holding them back?” she thought, her heart heavy with uncertainty. But then, she remembered Meera's encouraging words: “It’s not about speed; it’s about the journey.”

A few of the trekkers noticed her lagging and fell back to walk alongside her. “Don’t rush it,” said another woman, Clara, with a warm smile. “Enjoy the view! It’s not a race; it’s about the experience.”

With newfound encouragement, Sarah embraced her pace, allowing herself to take in the beauty around her. The towering trees, the sound of distant waterfalls, and the rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot became her companions. Each step was a victory, a testament to her resilience.

Finally, after a grueling climb, they reached the summit. As Sarah stood there, breathless and awed, the clouds parted like curtains to reveal the valley below, a tapestry of green and blue bathed in the golden sunlight. It was breathtaking—nature’s masterpiece.

At that moment, a profound sense of wholeness washed over her. She gazed out at the sprawling vista and felt something shift within her. “If I’m feeling fine, can anything be wrong with me?” she pondered. “Why should I let others tell me how to feel?”

She smiled, the weight of judgment lifting from her shoulders. She had made it—not just to the summit, but through her fears. Sarah felt truly alive. She realized that strength comes in many forms.

She felt like an eagle—ready to soar.

Note: The story draws inspiration from a poignant line by the beloved author Ruskin Bond: "If you are feeling fine, can there be anything wrong with you?"