White lightning illuminates the desert landscape. I look out from the rain streaked window of my Flagstaff bound train. The strobe of each camera like flash develops a single image. Cactus. Coyote. Canyon. An instant of light, and then dark expansive desert. It's 2 A.M. Is it 2 A.M.?Am I dreaming?
I lean back as the train pushes through the storm, shaking and swaying. It's going to be a long night.
Earlier, I met a family on the train and played 14 letter speed scrabble. First to use all their pieces wins.
The Flagstaff sun is just coming up as my train pulls into the station. Hours later, a big 4th of July parade will march through the streets. Red. White. Blue. The band will play. But right now it's 5 A.M. and silent. The only thing I hear is the howl of my train fighting down the tracks, into the distance. I'm just a stranger here, like Pop was so many years ago. I sling on my rucksack and make my way through the predawn stillness of the mountain town. My reverse Dust Bowl migration has begun.
Check back tomorrow to read "Time is Taffy," an excerpt from chapter 1 of my Book!
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