So many separate thoughts cross our psyche when we find ourselves at the railroad tracks. And just in case there’s no gate to stop us, there’s the “Oh better watch out for the train!”
Here’s another one. “Where is my life going, really?” Then there’s the paying absolutely no attention to them whatsoever …
But I’ve always found when I’ve walked along some railway tracks, I feel completely different than from when but only a few minutes prior to arriving upon them, my mood was completely something else. Imagination sets in and my mind wanders …in so many ways.
A black cat crossed our tracks in Salem, Massachusetts on Friday the 13th of October, nearly 17 years ago. Yes it was an impressive full moon, ordered up especially for that trip.
My son was four-wheeling his little sister in her stroller down the bumpy path when this dark and black as night cat stopped in its tracks (literally) and just looked at us as if to ask, “Are you nuts?” All this because my son said to me perhaps only 5 minutes before, “Mom, I think the only thing missing from tonight’s Salem adventure is a black cat.” That was fun, wasn’t it James?
A hobo with his knapsack and pup? A wandering boxcar child? A lonely, desperate soul in debate with himself or laughing children playing where they shouldn’t. I was dumb enough to play chicken with a train once or twice …yeah I admit it.
What sorts of people and their stories have those trains carried across the iron, timber, steel or combination thereof, tracks? I wonder. But my favorite is always the bygone era of the steam locomotives. And then my imagination takes me into the mystery and romance of a journey well over a thousand miles, Paris to Constantinople.
The rest is left right there for me, in my imagination. I don’t mind the train tracks at all, even the really bumpy ones.