My life.

That’s what the scene reminded me of. A bumpy trail all bathed in blue light from the sky and snow and falling daytime. The bumps, the ups and downs, all the disappointments and fleeting triumphs. My mom’s death was the huge lump, right at my feet, the one that stretched for a couple of yards, I decided.

Trees coated in snow, to catch each new day as it fell from the sky, to cradle each moment in long, spindly branches. Thin, but surprisingly, secretly strong. Like my dwindling levels of self-confidence.

The way the path twisted and turned, so that it curved out of sight…I couldn’t see the end of it. I couldn’t begin to imagine where the wintry, cold day would take me.

Just like my life.