In a tiny nutty shell

In predawn light, the volcano lights up the clouds red that threaten to cancel our trek. The snow reflects into my bug-eyed goggles and I lace up my crampons over my bear-sized boots. I think I can. The snowy face deceives my depth perception, but it gives me hope the summit is near. I duct tape my toes and heals like little pigs in a blanket.  My ice pick holds me steady. One foot after another and a box of Frosted Flakes gets me to the top. I wear flip flops for two months afterwards in hopes the blisters will heal soon.