I Hear The Whistle Blow

It’s interesting what will trigger our memories. Those sounds, smells and sights that take us back to days gone by, to family and loved ones; people we knew and places we visited.

I was working in the yard today when I heard the train whistle. I closed my eyes and saw the barge floating down the Columbia River. I was sitting on the oily railroad-tie steps leading down to the orchard and could smell the apples ripening in the sun. I was visiting my grandparents on that hot summers day and grandma and I were going to pick blackberries to have for dessert that evening. Price and Timba, my grandparents German Shepherds, were rolling around in the grass like puppies, while my grandpa wandered through the orchard examining the trees. A train rumbled by and the engineer blew the whistle. “You stay off those tracks, Rachel. Ya hear me?” My grandpa warned.

As I opened my eyes a feeling of pure contentment and connectedness washed over me. It was only a moment, a short recollection of the past flooding me with an overwhelming sense of peace and love. The casual sound of that train whistle gave me an unexpected gift of a cherished memory.

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