Monday, December 14, 2009

of trains and trees

the soothing rhythm of a train on its tracks, falling asleep in the plains and waking up in the mountains, the fog hanging low over the bare branches of trees in the new river gorge, writing christmas cards, the romance of a railroad arrival (or departure, i suppose, though jumping off the car in the mid-morning fog-shrouded mountains is much preferable to sidling through the mammoth underground caves crowded with weary travelers in frozen chicago), fried fish, dad's new christmas tree lights, reading mr. willoughby's christmas tree, and each ornament telling a story on the family tree.

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