A small indulgence, perhaps? An excerpt from a fictionalised autobiography from my earliest days to age thirteen. In this chapter, my family and I were trying to reach my grandparents in Denver, for Christmas. It was before four-lane highways; Wyoming in the winter was in full force with a blizzard catching us out:

Her sisters were quiet, as their dad had growled at them all to keep still, his need to concentrate too important for their distractions. Her brother continued to hang out the window, guiding him as to where the side of the road was; the cold air rushed into the car and they all shivered with its ferocity. It was as if the wind bore fingers of its previous victims, scrabbling around the edges of the interior of the car, looking, literally, for handholds, a touch along the back of a neck or on the shoulder, claiming, or at least trying to claim, another victim of the storm, in their lonely seeking for rest. Kally shivered, again, and her sister held her tighter against her chest.

Kally knew her parents were afraid, especially her mom. She was in the front seat, peering ahead into the darkness of the storm, all light from the sun, or any other source, completely blocked except for the few feet in which their headlights projected. In their light, all she could see were snowflakes, a swirling cauldron of snowflakes. It was as if Winter was a witch, like the ones she'd heard about in Shakespeare's writings, pouring more and more snow into the pot, stirring it up in a quickening frenzy of destruction, flinging it in their faces, in the open window and blowing the snow down the collars of their coats.

Her dad dared not stop the car lest they get stuck in the drifts which kept piling up along the edges and middle of the road. Snowplows had been through a few days before and either pushed the previous snow to the side or to the middle, unthinkingly making small hillocks to catch the drifting snow as it was blown across in a horizontal blanket of suffocation. Her dad continued to curse softly under his breath so as not to raise her mother's ire. She didn't like it when he used rough language around the kids. His hands were clenched and knuckles white as he fought to keep the car going against the strong gale. His shoulders were hunched, braced against the wind and any unforeseen objects which may spring up, the least of which might be another car or truck on the road. They could only see a few feet in front of the car; behind them the storm closed in, angry at their disturbance of the blanket it laid down across the land. By now, they were all bundled up as much as possible, with all of their coats, scarves, hats and gloves. They didn't dare stop to get the blankets out of the trunk as it just was too dangerous. Kally's feet were getting cold. They had rubber boots to keep their feet dry, but, in the days before "moon boots" and advanced technology, the only warmth offered was through woollen socks and layers. Kally was allergic to wool, so she had on only layers of cotton socks, plus long underwear, its waffle weave offering scant protection against the fierce cold which enveloped them. She had already put on her snowpants, which, even though they were wool, did help her keep some warmth. There were enough layers between them and her skin, she wasn't itching at least. As she looked around at her family, all she could see were their eyes and mouths; their lips were all pinched in grim expressions of dread. When her mom looked back at them, she could see the fear in her eyes, even though she smiled and told them it would be alright. This time, one of the first times ever, Kally did not believe her mom. She knew they might never make it to grandma's house.

Her father let out a sharp exclamation. He told her brother to look ahead; was that a light he saw? As they drew nearer, he realised they were close to a truck stop; a low slung, one long building out in the middle of nowhere, at least seventy-five miles from the nearest town, a mere semblance of civilisation. He remembered it from his days out on the road, travelling to drilling rigs. He knew they'd eventually go by it, but they'd been on the road so long, the going had been so slow; he thought they must've missed it. What normally may have taken a mere hour and a half to two hours on the old road, had consumed the entire day. It was early evening when he spotted the bleak neon sign of the café.

Carefully, carefully, her dad inched the car along. There was a huge release of tension as they all realised they would make it to the safety of the rest stop. When they finally edged off the road into the parking lot, they could see that many other travellers had also stopped in. It was an oasis of light sans the palm trees. As they all piled out of the car, her parents shepherded them through the door of the establishment. A kind, but tired looking lady met them. She offered a warm welcome, pointing to one empty booth near the back of the room. As they looked around, Kally could see all kinds of people: gnarled old ranchers, their shoulders hunched up from the cold; truck drivers with coveralls zipped up tight, stocking caps pulled down over their ears; families, like hers, with small children, all scattered around at tables, booths, and the bar.

First thing Kally's mom and dad did was asked for some hot coffee for themselves and her brother. The woman who obviously owned the place was a step ahead of them; she brought over a tray with steaming mugs of not only coffee, but also hot chocolate for the girls. She told Kally's parents the menu was still available, though they were running low on some items. She'd be happy to cook them up a meal, the "drinks were on the house," though. As they wearily settled in, taking off their outermost garments, Kally looked a bit closer at their surroundings. Like most out of the way places in Wyoming, this one had a few goods for sale: postcards of antelope, bald eagles and cowboys. She also saw a glass case with some handmade jewellery and polished stones.

After her parents ordered some hamburgers and shakes for them all, Kally asked her mom if it would be okay to go look at the shiny stones in the case. It was close by their table. Her dad was up, visiting with a couple of fellows he knew from the "oil patch." They had all used the facilities and were finally relaxing a bit, relieved to have found shelter from the storm. Her mom let out a long sigh of relief and told Kally it would be alright, but to keep out of peoples' way and mind her manners. She admonished her not to touch anything.

Among their fellow refugees, several had decks of cards out on their tables, playing various games including pinochle, poker, and, it looked like, canasta. Kally's family played a lot of canasta. As young as she was, she was only a beginner at it, but she enjoyed it, most of the time; sometimes her sisters who were twins were a bit wicked about winning, holding their cards close, then swooping down with whoops of glee when they melded in one grand hand and went out on everyone else, leaving them all holding most of their cards. Still, she would learn and one day beat them at it. She hoped there was another set of cards in the café which they could use. Maybe she and her sisters could borrow it and play a hand or two.

She made her way over to the glass case. It was electrified, with lights glancing off the facets of each stone. It had swinging horizontal shelves which rotated vertically inside the case. One had only to push a button on top and to the right, to advance the next shelf to in front of them, where they could stop it and look at the treasures as long as they liked. Kally was fascinated and, at first, didn't hear her mom when she called that their food was ready.

It had been a long day. They'd only had a few snacks in the car and Kally realised she was really, really hungry. She answered her mom the second time she called and made her way back to their booth. There she saw a plate in front of each of her family members and one for herself, filled with freshly cooked hamburgers, with lettuce and tomato on the side, as well as onions for her dad. Each plate was also piled high with French fries. Tall glasses of milk mixed with chocolate ice cream were placed near her plate and those of her sisters. Her dad finished up his visiting and ambled over to the table, too. He told her mom the storm was supposed to let up in a few hours. The phone lines were out, so there was no way to call her grandparents to let them know why they were late. The snowplow operators had been contacted by radio, the owner of the café had told him, and were swamped trying to keep the towns dotted around the state open for local traffic. It would be a long time before they made it to the open prairie roads outside of any of the towns. The whole state was locked in, all traffic including railroad, airplanes, cars and trucks, was stopped. Nothing was getting through not even the much vaunted U.S. mail service.

By now it was late evening and Kally was feeling sleepy. She'd finished her meal; her tummy was full. Relief had washed over them all and fatigue set in as their muscles relaxed, most of the tension washed away in the warmth of the room and their full stomachs. The owner of the place came over to tell her parents she'd figured out where all of the children who were stuck there could bed down for the night. She had gathered all of her own blankets from her apartment out back and those of other stranded folks and cleared a space in one corner, nearest the heating stove, where each child would have a pallet on which to sleep. Kally's mom was really happy and grateful for the owner's thoughtfulness. She told Kally and her twin sisters to gather up their coats and things and follow her and the woman to the bedding. As they walked behind their mother, they went past the glass case of rocks and jewellery once more. Kally couldn't help herself; she stopped once more to look at the beautiful little shiny stones. Glancing back over her shoulder, her mom urged her to hurry along, but the owner had also seen her interest. She told Kally's mom it was alright and asked if it was okay to let Kally feel some of the rocks. Her mom gave the woman a tired smile and a nod of acquiescence. Kally gave her mom a big hug and a thank you as the owner walked behind the counter and unlocked the case. She took out a small basket with tumbled rocks filled almost to the brim. She set it down low, in a nearby chair, so that Kally could touch them, holding up one, then another, looking at them through the light of the lamps overhead, squinting her eye and closing the other in her concentration over their beauty. The kindly owner softly asked her if she would like to pick one out to keep, for free. Kally was overcome with joy. She loved rocks almost as much as she loved her pets and family. After shyly murmuring her thanks, she carefully sifted through them until a tiny agate fell into her hand. It was almost opaque, a kind of see-through gray with black dots, like a Dalmatian in need of a bath. It was oval in shape and so smooth. She held it between her fingers, rubbing its surface with one finger, then turned it over, noting the almost identical likeness of its other side. It was her very own treasure and she was so content standing there, holding the wonderful gift from the kindly stranger. She almost felt like the baby Jesus, finally given succour and safety by the innkeeper, then receiving wonderful gifts from the magi. The out-of-the-way café's owner was her magus, the tiny stone her frankincense. As she thanked the woman once more, she drifted over to where her mother was helping her sisters settle down for a few hours of sleep. By morning they hoped to be on the road again. Her dad and the other drivers had plotted out their routes and planned to caravan to the next town, everyone watching out for each other and making sure they were all safe. They had passed the hat and gathered as much extra cash as they each could spare. Her dad then gave the money to the owner with a hearty round of applause and thank you's from the stranded crowd. Once strangers, they were full of camaraderie and goodwill toward one another, vowing to keep in touch and wishing one and all a very Merry Christmas.

The next day, Kally and her family were able to leave before noon, actually following the snowplow as far as Medicine Bow where her mom was able to phone her grandparents and allay their worries. It took many more long hours of cautious driving before they came over a big hill and looked down on the lights of Denver; from there it was another forty-five minutes of so before they reached their destination. All of the way, Kally had clutched her treasured stone in her hand. It became a talisman warding off any more misadventures. In later years, it became a touchstone, bringing to mind the terrifying day and night of the horrendous storm balanced by the kindness of strangers and her belief in the infallibility of her magical parents.