To my horror, I’d lost her. On each floor, by the stairs, under the bed; she was missing. She, a tiny human baby in its larval form, without any defining features, without bones or muscle, smaller than my palm. I was taking care of my niece in this dream and set her down for a moment, and then either the wind or chance blew and carried her away, over the railing beside me. Frantically, I ran down the stairs — three sets of them — checking for her meticulously at each level, but there she wasn’t.

In time, she appeared from nowhere, a girl that had no insect-like qualities, a girl that looked everything like a beautiful young woman. And it was at this point, in this confusion, that I woke up uncertainly. My pillow still under my head, my love still by my side. My niece, still nowhere.

As winter sets in, life stops. The leaves fall under the snow and trees begin their long wait. The cold snaps at them the entire season long, and all they can do is endure as best they can.

And when the world thaws, the tree begins its fight back to life. Its branches once again form leaves to catch the sun and rain, and it does everything it must to grow stronger than it was. And when the winter begins to set in, the tree endures, because all of nature knows that sooner or later it must.