Railroad Spikes

In the clasp of summer’s fervid hand

We wandered, grandpa and I

Along the whispering tracks untamed

Beneath the wide, unending sky

Our fingers brushed the iron cold

Plucked spikes from wooden graves

Each one a treasure in the rough

A relic of steel-bound waves

In his shed, by the old oak-tree

He painted each with care

Transformed them into gleaming gifts

With strokes precise and rare

Birthdays, Christmas, sometimes just

Because he thought of me

Those spikes arrived, lacquered in love

Through distant mail, they’d journey free

The innocence of childhood eyes

Saw not what risk we made -

Idyllic hours, just him and I

From memory won’t fade

Now understanding shades, the past

The danger in our game

Yet still it brings a smile, unasked

A flicker of a flame

For in my hand, those painted spikes

Hold more than metal’s weight -

They bear the echoes of our laughs

The love from grandpa, great

A bridge to yesterday’s embrace

A route to him, and back -

We used to pick spikes off the track;

Of safety, we lost track

But never of the love we shared

Nor of the joy we’d summon -

On tracks where trains and dreams once paired

And hearts became unburdened

While the grandpa I talk about here is not biologically my grandpa, he is my grandpa. My mother’s mother was married to him before I was even born. I have a couple happy childhood memories with him. This one is one of them.

My grandparents were what they call, “Snowbirds.” They lived up north in the Midwest during the summer, and down south for the colder months. (Or what they called “cold.”) When they were up north, where I lived as a child, they lived in a small apartment in a small city. The apartment was cute, and near a railroad track.

My grandpa and I would walk the tracks often, and we would grab railroad spikes out of the tracks. I know now that doing so could have caused the train to derail, but I’m sure that my grandpa was careful about it. I’m assuming he was careful about how many we took out of one spot. The train came by once and stopped. I remember getting on the train with my grandpa. I don’t remember where it went to, but my grandma was super upset, because we were gone for a long time, and she was worried. I also remember us laughing about it when we thought my grandma wasn’t looking. Because it was so much fun!

When I had my son, my grandpa painted one of those spikes blue, and he sent it to me. I remember receiving it. I had a huge smile on my face and called him immediately. This is a man that is not super open about his feelings, and throughout my life I often wondered if he even liked me. That spike let me know it all. I honestly don’t remember if I received another one for any reason. But I know he kept them for special occasions. I doubt he still has anymore, as he is getting quite old these days.

I haven’t seen him for several years, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about him often. I do. I find myself driving by the small apartment, in the small city, just to re-create those memories and feel a sense of closeness. Infact, this weekend, I’m driving there to go see the tracks.

#Grandpa

#Train

#Spike

#Memories

#Happy