When I was little, we lived on a small property that backed right up to the railroad right of way and tracks. We lived in that house for five years, and the only time I ever remember hearing the train at night was the last night we slept in that house. It was bittersweet leaving that place, and I didn’t sleep well.
I suppose my fascination with trains began there. Watching the train pass by day after day. Being so close, yet knowing the tracks were off limits, and wondering where it came from and where it went.
And the connection to history.
Those tracks, the same tracks, that helped build our country (way back in what to my imaginings was practically forever ago) were still in use. Amazing.
Funny thing…I found the next piece of my story with the passing of that train tonight. I can’t wait to start writing.