This essay was originally published on July 25, 2013. It is being re-shared in support of LPR’s 10th Anniversary celebration.
As a child, I rode everywhere on trains – Chicago, New York, even San Francisco, and that’s a darn long time on a train. My father worked for Amtrak; we rode for free. Train tracks run through back yards full of creaky swing sets, shaggy dogs and flapping rainbows of laundry – the back doors of houses, which seem much more intimate than the face the houses prepare for the faces they meet through the front door.
Watching out those windows for hours on end, I noticed there were so many lives, just as full as mine, which seemed like a revelation to me as a child. I was so curious about all of them. I also read obsessively – my mother used to beg: “Please, at least take the book outside” – for trips through other people’s heads.
NOTE: If you enjoyed this essay, please check out LPR’s Issue 12: Audacity. https://littlepatuxentreview.org/issues/12-summer-2012/