Thursday, February 19, 2015 

Well, last night on my way home from Pottstown, where I had to buy supplies for a patient, I hit a snow squall. Was never in anything like this at all. Reminded me of North Dakota, where I visited with my brother’s ex-fiancé in the late 1960s. In seconds, I could not see a thing on the road. It was a total whiteout. My headlights made it even worst. So at first, I turned them off thinking I could find my way home in the sudden blizzard. I could not. I was already on the side of the road, because I heard the buzzing sound under my tires—the rumble strip—where the road is etched to warn you that you are too far over. On a clear day, you can see the strips. Last night, I saw nothing but snow darting toward my windshield. I stopped under an overpass. Fortunately so did every other car. My only fear was that some other car or cars would try to trudge on and hit you instead. No one did. We all waited and waited. Inches of snow fell in minutes. Later, I learned that I was only a half mile from my turnoff.

When I finally got moving, I did so with my “Winter” drive. Fortunately, Volvos are equipped with sensible options, this being one of them. Pennsylvania is hilly; so I had that challenge to face, but I made it home. The road below my house runs along the Schuylkill River. It was hauntingly beautiful after the blizzard. I was the only car on the road and watched for deer, but none came. They must have still been hunkered down somewhere. Smart thing to do. I made it up the hill to my house, pulled into the garage, made it upstairs, and put on a pot of milk. Nothing like warm milk. My neck and shoulders were aching.

I only hope everyone on the road last night made it home safely. Had this been North Dakota, the blizzard would likely have engulfed the car, endangering my life and the lives of all the other drivers. But this squall lasted only minutes, even though it seemed so much longer. Quite an experience. Rob watched from our house and could not see the house across the road. He tried to call me, but at that point, I was still driving and did not answer my cell phone.  

This morning, Mom called me:

What are we going to do about coffee?

Mom, what are you talking about?

What if we want coffee? How will we drink it?

We have plenty of cups, Mom. Go back to sleep. 

Our priorities are clearly different.