That trek through the Adirondacks,

my first experience winter camping,

quite possibly my last.

Seventeen and naïve,

the world unfolding before me.

Me, soaking it all in eagerly,

wanting to run forward into it,

trading past pain for hopeful tomorrows.

You, promising we would be warm enough

and you were right, shedding layers

the more our veins pumped blood.

I hadn't known what to expect,

but I trusted you then to take care of me.

It was before that day you betrayed me,

bursting my innocent heart,

left sobbing for days.

It snowed while we hiked

through scenes that Ansel Adams

would have captured,

big beautiful flakes highlighting

the c...

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