My breath comes in short bursts of white smoke. My heaving chest is an engine blowing exhaust into the frost. I lean over the porch hyperventilating, watching my tears hit the snow beneath my feet making tiny indentations, pinhole hollows searing the purity of a fresh snowfall. I feel a hand on my shoulder and my son pushes a cloth towards me to wipe my nose and eyes and the vomit from my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut tight causing tears to spill harder down my cheeks and puncture the pristine …