A Daughter's Whisper ...

I remember a whisper my oldest daughter, Carrie, had years ago. It was when we were about to move from Indiana. My husband at the time had just taken a new job in New Hampshire, and my three daughters and I stayed behind to sell the house. Eight months later, the house finally sold. My girls were in the 4th, 6th and 8th grade and, as most children facing a long distance move, they were sad to leave their friends behind.

Mother had come from Ohio to help with the move and the drive to New Hampshire. The house was thoroughly cleaned and the moving van was already on its way. At last we were ready to leave. We piled the last of the items we didn't trust the moving van with into my Toyota station wagon.

Mama had suffered cluster migraines for years. She had finally found some relief with oxygen and carried a portable oxygen tank with her to use when she felt a migraine coming on. This said, we also had a five foot long green oxygen tank that we used to refill the small portable one. This, too, had to be loaded into the car. Add to this list three children, mama and I, a couple of suitcases, a cairn terrior and a howling cat. We were crammed in pretty tight and oh yeah, did I mention it was winter? It had just started to snow like gangbusters as we left Indiana and headed east.

About two hours down the road, it was snowing so hard that I could no longer see the lines on the road, or the road either, for that matter. Driving slowly, I managed to get behind a semi for a short while, and I kept my eyes on his red tail lights until he turned off at one of the exits. When that happened, Mama and I decided we had no business being on the road either. It was night and snowing so hard the wipers were having trouble keeping up and I couldn't even see the road. We began to study the exits for a motel.

A couple of miles further down, I took an exit which, according to a road sign, promised several motels to choose from. I pulled into the parking lot of the first one I came to and took a deep cleansing breath. I was about to turn off the car when Carrie spoke up. "Mom, I don't want to stay here. There's a fire here. This motel is burning and we'll all die!"

Mama and I looked around at the pristine, well-lighted (albeit snow-covered) building, one of the most well-known motel chains anywhere, and repeatedly reassured her that all was well and there was no fire. There was no placating her. She put up such a ruckus that I figured it wasn't worth the aggravation. As Mama always said, "Pick your battles ..." So we drove on down the street a few hundred yards to the next motel and got a room for what was left of the night.

When we awoke, we were greeted by a beautiful, sunny day. The snow had stopped. After enjoying a nice continental breakfast, compliments of the motel, we re-stuffed ourselves, the suitcases, the dog and the howling cat back into the Toyota to resume our drive to New Hampshire.

As we passed the first motel from the night before, we were all stunned. Sometime during the night, the motel had burned to the ground ...