BY JEAN P. KELLY
WITH CHILDLIKE excitement, a kind woman hosting our family near her home on the shores of Flathead Lake, Montana, beckoned my three girls to the edge of the water. “Look,” she said, pointing to dull, grey rocks lapped by glacial melt water, still frigid in July. They were as confused as I until she said “Do you see wishing stone?,” indicating one ringed with a bright white stripe, continuous and uninterrupted. “That’s a gift from the Missouri River, one that can make your dreams come true.”
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