Footprints in the Snow

By the time she was let out of class that night, it was snowing, and the sun had already sunk behind the horizon, like a child going to bed early.

She walked swiftly, the air biting her exposed face, and snowflakes chilling her neck and the exposed skin of her chest. Her cheeks reddened and she shivered, but she didn't zip up her jacket. There was something exhilarating about being exposed to the softest of harsh edges of the elements.

As she passed a street light, she looked up at the flurries illuminated by the rays - a rainbow halo of light surrounding the lamp - almost like magic.

She smiled, her shoes making that squeaky crunch that always accompanies a snowy sidewalk.

Behind, her footprints - already filling with whiteness - showed just how far she had come. Soon they too would disappear, and just like that, her progress would be gone.

But not gone. She would always know how far she had come in her life. Just last year, she had never thought she would be where she was - at university, obtaining a degree. Others may not see her struggles, but that did not mean they were any less real to her.

Even if they were gone, like a set of footprints in the snow.