My childhood home sat on a small hill on land that had been carved out of my great grandparents’ farm. On summer days, after the outside work had been done, my sister and I would lie in a specific corner of the yard where the grass met the tree line. If we positioned ourselves just so, there was a square-shaped opening in the canopy of the surrounding oak trees. We would pretend it was a big movie screen, and as the clouds passed into view, we would look at the shapes and make up our own plot lines about motorcycles, horses, dragons and castles.
I don’t know what made me think of this.
This weekend, as I make my way to the farm, I vow to make a departure away from the terrestrial and send my gaze upward.
THE TRAIN REPORT (each week I’ll also give you a glimpse on what our train ride was like):
Complete absence of annoying people
What story would you make up for this cloud? I may have to call my sister.
THE TRAIN REPORT
An hour late, but I am used to it by now
And after all, my head is in the clouds.