I sat and stared at the photograph clutched between gnarled and wrinkled fingers, the figures in the picture bundled up in their winter gear. It felt like only yesterday that I had entered that old forgotten house. It’s close to the summit of a long, forgotten mountain. The snow covered everything from the ground to the tips of the trees like a fairytale world of ice and undisturbed beauty. We marred that beauty with our snowmobiles, but we did notice its beauty first. Maybe that’s how we escaped. Many were not so lucky. We had gotten too cold and had entered the house to get warm. There was wood stacked neatly on the porch. I was twenty-seven. “Grandma! It’s time for dinner!” I lifted my head to see a girl of thirteen in the doorway waving me into the dining room. I was inside the house for only ten minutes. Where did the time go?