FOOTPRINTS ON ICE

Everyday, sometime after 7pm I buckle the belt that holds the holster for my 357 Magnum, and head out on to the tundra to walk my dog. I noticed one day, that there is only one set of footprints where I walk. Mine. Frozen solid onto the thick ice of the lake. At first the solitary gray prints molded onto ice and snow made me feel lonely, longing for a human companion to accompany me. But, I've come to realize those are the prints of an adventurer, a woman of inner strength, a loner.