My Husband Needed My Signature to Save Himself From Debt — His Mother Had a Colder Plan He Never Saw Coming

I did not think about the twelve feet.

I thought about the next few inches.

And then the next.

That, it turns out, is how you cross a mountain range on your forearms.

You refuse to look at the whole distance, and you take the next few inches, over and over, until there are no more inches left to take.

I have come to think that those twelve feet taught me more about surviving anything than any easier lesson ever could have, and that the principle scales up to fit almost the whole of a life.