from my Journal - Thanksgiving

I do love traveling. I know that I'm only on a train from Fresno to Fullerton, but I still love it. I love watching the land roll away; seeing the backs of the buildings, the goats and sheep wandering in the junk yards of yester-year's Americana. I love all the strange faces; personalities so separate, yet riding together on a shared adventure yet to be realized. The children, the kids, loud and quiet, wild and shy, may annoy some, but I find joy in the privilege of being their traveling companion.
I had thirty minutes to wait for a connection at Union Station in LA. So, I walked around outside on the streets watching the people. I wish I had longer... I would have gotten a hot, french dip sandwich at Philippes across the corner and walked up the Historic Olvera Street where the Hispanic heart of this beautiful city still beats.

I got a thrill as I walked down the tunnel to track 12, platform B with all the people pushing past me just coming off their trains busy to be home. As we rolled out of the station, the setting sun filled the sky with it's golden light while a single building stood silhouetted against the sky, its windows orange against the blue haze of the LA sky. I felt its weight as if a sigh escaped as our departing train slid by.