House, we’re leaving for Minsk the capital city of Belarus but as we drive along going to Klechiv I ponder the idea if your house had a face what type of face would it be. The houses I pass seem to be crying, sad, and asking for a return of a better time. Their worn-out, tired, the windows are dressed with fine linens faded and cats adore the frames as the heat from the sun beats down, but the weathered wood screams help me I am rotting pull me down use me for another purpose I have served this one well. So what face would your house be wearing?
Train, we hustle towards the front of the train I’m wondering why we are in such a hurry but as we board I find out she has secured a semi berth for us. It is a cabin with our own sleeping area, a table, and storage compartment but best of all it’s enclosed and we can close the door to enjoy the ride together. At this point, we are not sharing the berth with anyone and I am hoping that it stays this way. It’s wonderful to be riding along the country in a train with nothing but being with my wife, looking out at the countryside, typing a story and appreciating the rhythm of the clitter clatter of the wheels as we pass thousands of rivets holding the track to the earth. Irina smiles, calling me a big baby for enjoying the ride so much, with a grin as wide as the snake river I’ve learned to soak in every moment of pleaser that passes through my hourglass appreciating what God has put in front of me to be mesmerized. She sits beautifully across this tiny table with a bag of peanuts, a coke and a heart of gold it is wonderful to look at someone with so much joy and pleasure it’s been such a long time. She cracks open her peanuts with the precision of an oyster shucker looking for that precious cargo the pearl or in her case a delicious plump nut hidden behind that outer shell. I hear the crunch of the nuts as she devours them one by one, peering up at me as I glance at her beautiful face she smiles. We’re passing through a train yard my thoughts drift off to my adventure of Britt, Iowa the hobo convention, the people I’ve met, and the friends I formed, what a wondrous life I’ve led. I’ve dabbled with the rich and famous, slept in the desert with the homeless, camped in a graveyard of old retired trains as a hobo, been jailed in Russia, deported, married in Belarus and live my life as a journeyman of adventure.
All this for 7.00 dollars.