Comfort

When I was hiking across country with my father and brother in 1945 we came to a gas station in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. The old couple who ran the place got up in their robes, offered us ice cold coca cola and a bench to sleep on inside with the Penzoil. The next morning with ice lining the insides of the windows the woman woke up and before we left for the open road, she gently brushed and braided my hair. I could have stayed there forever.