Sign at Sunset | Coulee City, WA | May 2019
When I was a kid in Louisiana, Mom would sometimes drive us 40 miles to a Holiday Inn for comforts we lacked at home. Air conditioning, swimming pool, color TV, little soaps, drinking glasses wrapped in paper. “Honey, see if you can find some ice for this Coke,” she’d say, leaning back on pillows piled in the big double bed. I’d go padding down breezeways in search of the magic machine that made an endless supply of crystal-clear cubes. An unspeakable luxury. I used the silver scoop (OK, it was shiny aluminum) to fill the bucket with what looked like diamonds. I was careful not to spill; Mom deserved every single piece.