The crisp mountain air of the Rockies swept through Alison’s hair as she rode slowly along the narrow trail. The earth beneath the horse's hooves crunched softly, and she could hear the steady breathing of the animal beneath her. Her mother, Emily, rode ahead on a caramel-colored mare, her back straight, as though the mountains were nothing more than an obstacle to be conquered.

Alison was used to the flat, endless expanse of Austin, where her father had always taken her hiking, just the two of them, laughing and talking about everything and nothing. This was different. The Rockies were vast, jagged, imposing, and beautiful in a way that made her feel small. It was their last stop, the end of a long, painful journey to honor the man they had both loved. Her father’s ashes had been scattered in several places across the country, at all the landmarks he had wanted to see. The Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, and now, the Rockies.

But the tension between Alison and her mother had only grown thicker with each mile.

"Are you doing okay back there?" Emily called over her shoulder, her voice a little too bright, a little too concerned. Alison gritted her teeth. She could hear that tone even when her mother wasn’t speaking—the one that said, I'm trying. I'm really trying. But Alison wasn’t sure she cared.

"Yeah," Alison replied shortly, her voice barely rising above the wind. Her mother didn’t push the conversation further, and for a while, the only sound was the rhythm of hooves on rock and the occasional chirp of a bird.

They had been on this trip for two weeks now, and Alison felt like every conversation with her mother was a battle. Emily had been determined to make this trip not just about her husband’s ashes, but about reconnecting with her daughter, about healing. Alison didn’t want to heal. She wanted her dad back. She wanted the version of her life that didn’t include this awkward silence between her and her mother. She missed how things used to be.

It had been eight months since her dad had died, and the hole he left was still raw and gaping. She knew her mom was grieving too, but it didn’t make the way Emily handled things any easier. Emily had been distant, throwing herself into her work after her husband’s death. Then, one day, she had woken up and decided that what they needed was a big road trip—just the two of them. A chance to “reconnect.” Alison hadn’t had the energy to argue at the time, so she went along with it.

But now, after two weeks of near-constant bickering, Alison wished she had said no.

"Look at that view," Emily said, bringing her horse to a stop. She turned back to Alison with a tentative smile, pointing at the valley stretching out below them. It was stunning, Alison had to admit. The Rockies were bathed in golden light as the sun sank lower in the sky. Tall evergreens lined the valley, and the peaks in the distance seemed to glow with a soft, ethereal light.

Alison pulled her horse to a stop next to her mother and stared out at the scenery. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel something other than anger—something quieter, softer. Awe.

"I thought he would have loved this," Emily said quietly, pulling the urn from her saddlebag. It was the same silver urn they had carried with them since the start of the trip. The one that held her father’s ashes. "This is the last place."

Alison swallowed hard, her chest tightening. She didn’t respond. What was there to say?

Emily dismounted her horse and walked a few steps forward, her boots crunching on the rocky terrain. Alison stayed where she was, watching. Her mother knelt down, cradling the urn in her hands. The wind picked up, blowing her hair across her face, but Emily didn’t seem to notice. She opened the urn and, slowly, began to scatter the ashes into the wind.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Alison watched the ashes swirl and disappear into the breeze, carried away by the same wind that tugged at her jacket and ruffled the mane of her horse. It felt final—more final than any of the other places they had stopped.

When Emily stood up again, she turned to Alison with tears in her eyes. "He loved you so much, you know?" she said softly, her voice cracking.

Alison looked away, not trusting herself to speak. She had heard that line a hundred times from relatives and friends, but hearing it from her mom—it hurt. It reminded her of how little they had said to each other after his death. There had been no shared grief between them, only silence.

Emily took a few steps toward her. "I’m sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "I know this hasn’t been easy for you, for either of us. I know I’ve messed up, a lot. But I didn’t know what to do after he died. I didn’t know how to keep going, how to be there for you when I could barely get out of bed some days."

Alison felt the tears welling up in her eyes before she could stop them. She blinked furiously, refusing to let them fall. She didn’t want to cry, not in front of her mother. Not now.

"It wasn’t supposed to be like this," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "He was supposed to be here with us. We were supposed to do this together."

Emily nodded, tears slipping down her own cheeks. "I know. I miss him too, every day. And I’m so sorry that I haven’t been the mom you needed these past few months."

For the first time since they had started this trip, Alison felt the wall between them crack. She had spent so long being angry—at her mom, at the world—for taking her dad away. She had pushed her mother away because it was easier than dealing with the pain. But standing here, in the Rockies, with the last of her father’s ashes now scattered, she realized she didn’t want to be angry anymore. She didn’t want to carry that weight.

Alison took a deep breath, letting the cool mountain air fill her lungs. "I miss him too," she said, her voice shaky. "I miss him so much."

Emily stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and wrapped her arms around Alison. For a moment, Alison stiffened, unused to the embrace. But then, she melted into it, letting the tears flow freely. She sobbed into her mother’s shoulder, the grief and anger pouring out of her in a way it hadn’t since the day they had buried her father.

Emily held her tightly, not saying anything, just letting her cry. And for the first time in months, Alison didn’t feel quite so alone.

When her sobs finally subsided, they stood there for a few minutes in silence, holding each other. The sun was lower now, casting long shadows across the mountains. Alison wiped her eyes and pulled away from her mother, feeling a little lighter, a little less burdened.

"Do you think he’s happy now?" Alison asked, her voice quiet, her eyes fixed on the horizon.

Emily smiled sadly. "I think so. I think he’s at peace."

Alison nodded, her heart still aching, but the pain didn’t feel as sharp as it had before. "I hope so."

They mounted their horses again and started back down the trail, the sound of hooves filling the silence between them. But this time, the silence didn’t feel so heavy. It didn’t feel so full of things left unsaid.

As they rode, Emily glanced over at her daughter and smiled—a real, genuine smile. "You know," she said after a while, her voice lighter, "I think we should make a habit of this. Maybe not the ashes part, but the trips. The two of us."

Alison raised an eyebrow. "The two of us? In the wilderness? Again?"

Emily laughed. "Yeah. Maybe somewhere less rugged next time. Like the beach."

Alison smiled for the first time that day, a small, fleeting smile. "Maybe."

They rode in companionable silence for a while longer, the mountains stretching out around them. And for the first time in a long time, Alison felt like maybe—just maybe—things could get better.

The Rockies loomed large in the distance, but they didn’t feel quite so intimidating anymore.