“Where are we now, Mom?”
“Just outside Centralia, Illinois.”
“This is sure a long train.”
“I’ll turn off the motor. Tell me if you get too cold, Roy, and I’ll turn the heater back on.”
“It’s cold out, but not real cold yet, even though it’s almost December. Why is that?”
“Weather is pretty unpredictable sometimes, baby, especially in the spring or fall. But you can bet before too long this part of the country’ll be blanketed white.”
“How come we never take a train?”
“You took a train a couple of times, don’t you remember? When you went up and back to Eagle River, Wisconsin.”
“It was fun sleeping overnight on the train, though I didn’t really sleep very much. I stayed up looking out the window into the shadows, imagining what might be out there. I like the dark, Mom, especially if I’m protected from it, like through a train window.”
“What did you think you could see, Roy?”
“Monsters, of course. Lots of large creatures crunching through the forest. Then I could see campfires, real quick little flashes of smoky light burning up through the trees. I thought maybe it was Indians, the last ones left living in the woods, moving every day and setting up a new camp at night.”
“Nomads.”
“What’s that?”
“Nomads are people who travel all the time—they don’t live in one place.”
“Is Nomads the name of a tribe?”
“It used to be. They’re in the Bible, I think. Now it’s just a word used to describe anyone who’s constantly changing their place of residence.”
“We move around a lot.”
“Yes, we do, but we mostly stay in the same places.”
“That’s what the Plains Indians did. I read that they would come back to the same campgrounds depending on the seasons.”
“I think the Indians understood the weather better than most people do now.”
“What do you mean, Mom?”
“People live mostly in cities, so they defy the weather. They stay in their buildings and complain when it rains or snows, or that it’s too hot or cold. The Indians adjusted better to changes of climate. When it was too warm on the plains, they moved to the mountains, where it was cooler. When it snowed in the mountains, they moved down.”
“This train is about the longest I’ve ever seen.”
“Cotton Belt Route. Southern Serves the South. Don’t you love to read what’s written on the boxcars?”
“Yeah, but what do the letters mean? Like B&O?”
“Baltimore and Ohio. L&N is Louisville and Norfolk, I think. Or maybe it’s Louisiana and Norfolk.”
“It’s almost ending, Mom. I can see the caboose. Start the car.”
“It’s nice to have heat, huh, Roy? If we were Indians in the old days we would’ve had to wait on our horses until the train passed.”
“We’d be wrapped in blankets, so we wouldn’t be too cold.”
“I once saw a painting of an Indian riding in a blizzard, his long-braided black hair and blanket covered with ice. Even the pony’s mane was frozen.”
“I like cars, Mom, but horses are more beautiful. I’d feel more like a real Nomad if I were on a horse instead of in a car. Wouldn’t you?”
“I guess so, baby. But it would take us a lot longer to get anywhere.”
“Sometimes I don’t care how long it takes. And when we get there I’m always a little disappointed.”
“Why disappointed?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because sometimes it’s better to imagine how something or someplace is rather than to have it or be there. That way you won’t ever be disappointed when you find out it’s not so great as you hoped.”
“You’re growing up, Roy, you really are. Some people never figure that out.”
“Probably the real Nomads knew, and that’s why they were always moving.”
“It’s impossible to avoid being disappointed sometimes, baby, unless you learn to not expect too much.”
“I like traveling, Mom. I like it more than being in one place, so maybe I’m learning.”