There is no way to accurately describe how the wind whisked across the open planes of that vast State. The wind and weather actually seemed to pick up speed as it rolled across the fields and then swept vigorously across the highway carrying blinding snow. Whistling winds screamed through any cracks in the bus and then reached up into my stomach with gripping nausea, as I remembered what could happen to us out here.
I picked up a book called the Last Arrow at my in-laws over the holidays. I am pretty sure the book is meant for fifty-year-old men, nonetheless I sat in the bath with a glass of wine and cried my eyes out. It was just what I needed. This last season has been hard and confusing and sometimes I just wanted to retreat because it sure seemed like we were losing the battle.