There was a little storm, Walda, that passed by Monday evening. Not Waldo as in “come find me,” because this little girl found her way to us. Due to political commitments, I was an accidental traveler on a road that was labeled “impassable” not to be misinterpreted as “impossible.”
The only vehicles on this road were a local farmer who winked his lights at me as he passed on his way to check livestock, and two young ladies in an SUV.
I stopped to rest my eyes from straining to see the road I knew was there through the storm that was trying its best to convince me it wasn’t.
They stopped and as...
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