Milk Stop
[This has been a week of record cold here in Wisconsin. There has been just enough snow our part of the state to keep me off my bicycle. Last night a (very) warm south wind blew in and melted all the snow. So here I am at Mother Fools Coffee Shoppe (Sunday destination)]"Grandpa, can we go see where you guys saw the train?"
Grandpa and Red had finished there sundae's and walked back from the ice cream store. They had just crossed the bridge and were about to climb down the bank and onto the road by Grandpa's house. Red had already taken a few steps farther along the trail, and beyond the path down the bank, and was looking back at Grandpa with a pleading smile.
"I suppose we could do that." He said reluctantly. He thought about it for a second and then he shrugged and said; "Okay, why not."
"Thanks Grandpa." Red started off down the trail with such an enthusiastic pace that Grandpa had to fairly run in order to catch up.
"Hold on, Red," Grandpa gasped as he caught up with her, "we'll get there. Let's just walk, okay?"
"Okay, Grandpa."; Red laughed "Sorry, I just can't wait to see this."
"There's really nothing to see. It really looks the same as anywhere else along here."
"I don't care. I want to be there, you know, just to see what it's like. "
"It's not going to come back, if that's what you're hoping." Grandpa said, "JJ and I have been there a hundred times since then and nothing has happened."
"I know, Grandpa," Red protested, "that's not why I want to go. I just want to see where it happened."
"Okay." Grandpa laughed and they walked on.
They had just rounded a slight bend and Grandpa said; "Here's about where we first heard the train coming from back there." He pointed back the way they had come.
Red stopped and looked back. She stood there for a minute and listened. There was no sound except for the birds in the trees and the cicadas.
"See, there's the old iron bridge up there in the distance." Grandpa said as he turned back and and continued walking. "And it was right up here that the train stopped and picked up the milk from that farm."
Red joined him and they started looking around the area where the train had stopped. Red was searching the grass and weeds next to the trail and down towards the ditch on each side of the trail. There was no sign of any kind of landing. No clearing or widening of the path. No tracks or breaks in the tree line on either side of the trail. There was nothing to indicate that this had ever been anything but more of the same railroad right-of-way.
"See," Grandpa said finally, "Like I said, there's nothing to see."
But Red had stopped looking around and was focusing on the old iron bridge.
"Grandpa," She said, "there's someone sitting up on that bridge."
Grandpa looked up followed Red's gaze. "There sure is." He said.
"He's was there when we got here." Red whispered."; But he's been sitting so still that at first I thought he was just part of the bridge."
"Maybe he's sleeping."
"He's dressed too well to be homeless."
As they watched, he stood up and started walking towards them. Red and Grandpa went back to their search - maybe a little embarrassed for staring.
The stranger approached and as he got close he stopped and looked at Grandpa. "Mr. P?" He asked.
Grandpa looked up and studied the man's face for a minute and then gasped; "Billy Thompson. Is that really you?"
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