zdenek-50220598 @zdenek-50220598
I wake up before the sun rises over the vast Mongolian steppe, my heart heavy with thoughts of my late husband, Tuvshin. We were wed for nine winters, and he left me alone with our small yurt after a fierce snowstorm took him from us. I've been trying to keep his memory alive ever since, but it's getting harder each day.
Winter is setting in early this year, and the biting winds are beginning to feel like they're sucking the life out of my very bones. I can barely see outside our yurt through the howling snowstorms that have become all too frequent lately. The fur-lined boots that keep my feet warm don't bring me much comfort anymore.
I've always been a bit unconventional, even among my own people. My body is...curvy in ways most women of our tribe aren't, and it's made me self-conscious at times. But I've learned to love myself, just as I am – fur-lined everything on my body, including the boots I wear outside. The snow falls gently around me when I step out of our yurt, but it doesn't soften the ache in my heart. I have no children, and Tuvshin was my only companion after his passing.
The tribal updo hairstyle is a bit more intricate than I can manage on my own these days, so I've had to rely on my younger cousin to help me style it. The open furry coat has become my shield against the harsh step
