Lobsang kept saying that crossing fates with me would get him killed. When we first got on the road, an old woman at the foot of the mountain had been selling snow chains. Each link on the chain was the size of a fist. I didn’t want to spend the money, but Lobsang insisted on getting two. The snow on the ground grew thicker as we climbed. Just as he had feared, the car skidded on a turn. Lobsang slammed…
At sixteen, life is supposed to be safe. Things are supposed to be beginning. We are supposed to be weaning from the care and guidance of people who have raised us. We are supposed to be on the brink of our adult lives. We should be taking the reins and figuring out how to care for ourselves, and we should have our most basic needs met so that we can care for others. It’s a volatile, dizzying, restless age. It is not always sweet.