Pulling my truck to the side of the road, I double check my navigation app. Did it really mean for me to leave the highway and head up this steep and narrow hairpin road, where trees are flocked by snow flurries that continue to assail my windshield? I check the gas gauge. Not full, but enough. I hope.
I drive cautiously. The road is clear for now, but I continue to ascend, and the skies continue to darken. Jones Pass. Good, I think, as the road dips down. But a few more curves and we’re headed up again. Willow Creek Pass. Am I just zigzagging among the mountain range summits?
The compass shows I’m heading northwest for the most part, which is ultimately the direction of my intended destination. I grip the steering wheel and continue on. After all, I ask myself, what’s the worst that could happen?
toward the summit
where air thins and fear thickens
winter hastens in
What Rhymes with Stanza? 