Your boots used to make boat sized holes in the snow. You always walked ahead, and I hopped along behind you, bouncing from one hole to the other. But the longer we walked in the storm, the more the snow filled in those boot prints. At some point, they just disappeared, and you were gone in the whiteout. You were no longer there to guide me, there were no more footsteps to follow, and from here on out, I had to make my own tracks.