Trains

Several years ago, Lloyd asked what I wanted for Christmas. Half joking, I said that I always want a train set. Christmas morning, I opened a train set. Then I received another one the next year. My family began getting me any and everything to do with trains, including a pink glass engine.

 

I love them. I always knew I was interested, but really didn’t know how much until I began collection them. We set up the train set several years, mostly at Christmas time. There is just something about them that draws all people to them.

 

I never reached the point of some people who build elaborate scenes around them or an outdoor version although I probably would be given the opportunity. Some of our children took us to the model train show in Oklahoma City a couple of years. We were awed of the details in the scenes taking in cities and country, mountains and plains, everyday and unusual.

 

Now that we have settled back in our home, I want to get the train sets out again and share them with my younger grandchildren as I did with the older ones. At some point, these will be theirs. I want them to have memories of us playing together with these trains. I want to see the looks on their faces. I want to engrave the time into my brain to carry with me.

 

The question always arises, “Why do you like trains?” I think it may have to do with the fact that my dad would tell about his dad working on the railroad. Dad gave me a postcard made from a picture of a train engine and some men on and around it. He told me that one of the men was my grandpa.

 

We lived close to railroad tracks once. The engineers would wave and blow the whistle if we were outside. We would put pennies on the railroad track and the train would flatten them as it rolled over them.

 

As long as I can remember, to here a train whistle at night is peaceful. Many people believe it sounds lonely and sad. Not so with me, I am drawn to the sound.

Live in childlike wonder.

Update 2016

Lloyd built a train table a couple of years ago. We ran the trains at Christmas. The grandchildren still talk about them. We need some new track and to work on some of the cars. Storage wasn’t kind to them. I dream still of having a train room.

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Author: Pamela K. Young

I have not only lived many chapters in one life, but many lives in one body. The person I am today is far wiser than the me of young adulthood. My life is like your life with its ebb and flow. We are all connected in some way. I am a wife, mother, and grandmother, but what makes me, well, me is the way I wife, mother, and grandmother. I am a liver transplant survivor. Whatever devastation you have survived, we survived in our individual ways. I create with words and photos. I am a writer and photographer.

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