Trains

When I was in third grade, my teacher Mrs. Benson, read our class "The Boxcar Children." For a few years following I was infatuated with trains and boxcars and worried that I would end up living in one because I would somehow become abandoned. Though I knew if I did somehow become abandoned I would be able to rough it just like the children in the story and my adventures would be just as thrilling and captivating.

Later on in my younger years I learned at the ripe old age of 13 my grandfather hopped on a freight train with his brother and rode out east to pick fruit to help provide for his family. I always imagined his young life to be adventurous and full of wonderful stories, though I know in reality it must have been very difficult. The only worries I had a 13 was whether or not I had a date for the spring dance or whether my toe nail polish matches my clothes (that is still a major concern for me......) Puts things into perspective I guess.

Anyway, I've loved trains or the thought of them most of my life. I took a different route home today as I normally do, always looking for fun things and this is what I came upon. I loved it. I could imagine my granddad sitting in the boxcar as a little boy and it made me smile.





**edited to say: I got a phone call from my dad this morning, telling me the story was a little off, as my grandpa was only 11 and his older brother was 13 when he hopped the train. And they went west, not east. They picked apples and cherries up and down the coast.