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thinking.
    Why didn’t Dad
    put a roadside
    emergency kit
    in the car?
    How could we travel
    all that way
    and not have one?
    I kept searching,
    and when my hand
    touched something
    hard and cold,
    underneath the backseat,
    I pulled it out.
    A flashlight.
    It wasn’t a lot.
    But it was something.
    “Are you sure you don’t want it?” Vic asked me.
    “You might be scared by yourself.”
    I shook my head
    and placed it in her hand,
    mine wrapping around hers
    for just a second.
    I made her eat
    the rest of the chips
    before she left,
    and she drank lots of water
    plus a little brandy.
    We talked about Ivy
    and keeping her fed
    and warm
    and all the other things
    a baby needs.
    When she looked at me,
    her tongue curled up,
    I saw fear
    in her eyes.
    But I saw
    determination there
    too.
    And when she looked at her baby daughter,
    I didn’t see a tongue-curling chameleon anymore.
    I saw
    one thing
    and one thing
    only.
    A kind,
    loving
    mother.
    I thought of my mom
    and how hard she fought
    with love
    in her heart
    for us.
    Maybe it’s not about
    determination
    or love
    or how hard
    you can fight.
    Maybe it’s just about
    fate
    and what is meant
    to be.
    And so,
    when I really
    didn’t know what to say,
    I told her,
    “Good luck,”
    as she hugged me good-bye.
    Because
    that was probably what
    she needed most
    in that moment.
    “If I don’t make it—”
    “Don’t talk like that,” I told her.
    “You’ll find help and you’ll get us out of here.”
    Then it occurred to me
    she probably needed
    something else
    in that moment.
    “Dad would be proud of you, Vic.
    He loves you. He really does.”
    She nodded.
    “Come back to us,” I said.
    I really,
    really
    meant it.

gone
    I watched her walk
    until her silhouette
    was swallowed up
    by the forest
    and there was
    once again
    nothing to see
    but white.
    Words and a melody
    popped into my brain—
    a song
    asking to be
    written.
    I grabbed my guitar
    and sang it out loud to Ivy,
    who watched and listened,
    like she totally loved it.
    “Walking away with love in your heart,
    hoping the coldness won’t keep us apart.
    “Playing the memories like songs in my head.
    Things we’ve shared and words we’ve said.
    “Don’t drift away.
    I want you to stay.
    Don’t drift away.
    You really should stay.
    Don’t drift away.
    Please…
    come back to stay.”

a snow-angel friend
    The formula,
    the water,
    and the food
    weren’t the only things
    we’d been stingy with.
    We’d been treating the diapers
    like a precious commodity,
    making Ivy wear them
    as long as possible.
    When we went to our
    make-believe
    outhouse in the snow,
    we took the used diapers
    with us.
    Ivy drifted off to sleep,
    so I used the opportunity
    to bundle up
    and head to our
    special tree,
    diaper in hand.
    The clouds above
    had cleared slightly
    and the snow
    had stopped falling
    for the moment.
    I took just a second
    to appreciate
    the pure beauty
    around me.
    I felt sad
    that I couldn’t
    enjoy it
    by building a snowman
    or making snow angels.
    And then I thought,
    Why can’t I?
    I flopped down on the ground
    into the fresh powder,
    my arms and legs
    gliding back and forth.
    When I stood up,
    I looked down at the angel,
    white and delicate,
    like lace.
    A guardian angel
    for us.

alice in winter wonderland
    In the afternoon,
    when Ivy started fussing
    and I’d fed her
    some formula
    and there was nothing else
    I could do,
    I pulled out the antique book
    and started reading.
    My voice
    or the story
    or something
    calmed her,
    and so we settled in.
    I read about Alice
    d
    r
    o
    p
    p
    i
    n
    g
    down the rabbit hole
    and growing small
    and growing big
    and growing small again.
    Alice was
    by herself
    down that hole.
    She wanted
    to follow
    the rabbit
    so bad,
    but she wasn’t able to.
    I’m pretty sure
    I knew
    exactly
    how she felt.

from bad to worse
    So thirsty,
    I drank
    the last few drops
    of remaining water.
    My hand
    became a shovel
    as I scooped snow
    into one of Ivy’s
    bottles.
    It