A BOXCAR FULL OF MEMORIES
written by Kurt
presented here in serial form to lead us into the holiday season.
MEMORIES OF TRAINS
Part One
We slept in the attic, my brother and I. It was like being in a tent. The ceiling was angled with the steep pitch of the roof. It felt like there was not much of anything between me and the night sky. The space was too narrow to put our two low iron-framed beds side by side. They were end to end, smack up against each other. The foot of mine against the head of Marty’s and the foot of his bed pushed right up against the one small attic window.
The head of my bed was practically out of the small door into the small landing off of the narrow wood staircase. There was enough space for a small boy to slide between the bed and the low wall, bet even a boy as young as Marty had to stoop and sidle down to get by. Either that or crawl over the bed. That was frowned upon by Mother but done when we could get away with it.
That attic room was hot as Hell in the summer and your breath would freeze and hang in front of your face in the winter. It was my nighttime space until I was nine, and I loved it. Not that I did much of anything except sleep. It was too small for much else. But those slatted wood walls and ceiling were so close they held you safe, like a newt in a big gentle hand.
But the best thing was the nightly thrill of the train. The house was right up over the tracks. When that train came roaring by the whole house would shake and SHAKE and SHAAAAAKE!!!
When the train’s headlight shone into the attic through that small amount of window not blocked by Marty’s bed, it would make all sorts of incredible figures dance across the ceiling. After the engine passed and the roaring subsided, the house would settle into a sort of steady vibration. The train cars would settle also into a smooth steady rumbling. And as the engine neared the next crossing, the whistle would sound
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~WHOOOOAAAAOOOHHHWWW——–WHOOOH.
I would listen to the rumbling and feel the house quivering around me and I would feel myself slipping away, safe snug in my covers. Every night that train would rock me to sleep.
Sometimes I would resolve to stay awake until the train had passed by. But I never did. Part of me didn’t want to experience the end of the magic, didn’t want the answers to the mysteries, just wanted to keep being rocked by the train’s soothing rhythms and dream, just dream, just dream……..
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……continue to Part Two