Snow Showers and the Dragging Voice

The forecast said “snow showers.” That is the exact phrase that got me to throw my pack

in the trunk like I was beating the clock on some fun little weekend reset. Snow showers.

By the time I reached the pull-off, the world was already turning white in that slow,

steady way that makes you feel like you’re inside a shaken snow globe. It wasn’t blizzard

conditions yet. Just thick flakes and wind that kept changing its mind. The kind of weather

where you can still hear your own boots in the powder and convince yourself you’re fine.

I signed the trail register with a pen that didn’t want to work. My glove made my

handwriting look like a toddler’s. There was one other name above mine, from earlier that