This experience happened high in the mountains in the Flagstaff, Arizona,
area at midnight.
I was tired of driving and my children were sleeping beside me as I drove on
through the night. I started to get that heavy eyelid feeling more intensely as
the twelve o’clock hour approached. I was thinking intensely about the man I
loved so dearly; only a day ago we said goodbye in California. Little did I know
at the time that I would never see him again.
Suddenly a white wolf ran across the road. I was only going 45 miles an hour,
as the night was so black up there in the mountains.
My heart leapt out of me! “Oh, my God,” I prayed, “please don’t have
let me hit the wolf.” After I slammed on my brakes, it truly felt as though I
had hit something-a thud! I got out and walked around searching the road,
looking under the truck, in the back, up ahead as far as I could see-nothing.
I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head from side to side in confusion.
“I need to stop thinking about this man so much,” I remember thinking.
I got in the pickup and started down the road. One mile down the road I
swerved-a white wolf lay dead in the road. Now I was really baffled! A couple of
miles down the road I pulled over at a rest stop and fell into a deep sleep. The
next morning I woke up to a picture drawn in the frost in the window. A man (a
sick man), a house, and two trees. I studied the picture for quite some time.
At that moment I asked myself why I was heading back to the Midwest, leaving
the man I wanted desperately to marry. But I proceeded due east, back to my
roots. I would call him when I got back to the Midwest.
During my journey, I pondered on that white wolf as much as the man I loved.
During the months that followed we made plans for him to come to the Midwest.
One year later, just about the time he was going to come to South Dakota, I
received a phone call. His best friend had stabbed him and he died one minute
later.-Pamela Krommendyk, Lawrence, Kans.