The weather was so warm this weekend that the little neighbor kids came over wearing shorts and t-shirts. We walked down to the end of the road to watch the trains go by. They threw rocks while they waited for the trains and ate the apples we'd brought from my house. Soon the tracks began to rumble. Ponytail squealed and hung onto my hand as a train rushed past, carrying freight to some other town east of us.
5 comments:
sweet! lots of rocks there. i miss little kids, even though i'm not ready for grandkids yet....
Jo(e) I love the way you're focusing on blossoming, sun shining, and going outdoors without coats on here....instead of the fact that it SNOWED yesterday.
Keep it up. I'm continuing to dress as if it was still Saturday, even though I shiver and shake in the cold rainy gale at the busstop each morning.
;-)
FA: Oh, that was just a little spring snow. It hardly counts.
When my grandson sees the train, he must sing Johnny Cash's I hear the train a coming. Funny, kids never tire of trains, kittens, puppies, and ice cream.
The train tracks that ran along Front Street (up the hill from the Maumee River) in Toledo were less than a block from our backdoor. They served as both a barrier (in our parents' minds) and a portal (in our minds) to a world beyond childhood — one that we (my three brothers and me) crossed often.
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