The Lunchbox

Last night I was telling B that our credit cards were creeping up and an easy way to cut back was to stop eating out for lunch. I kind of was waiting for a defensive remark but didn't get one. That was good. No one wants the other one to call them out on anything, that is human nature. So I go on to talk about how I am starting to pack the kids lunch at night to help speed up my mornings. I can't get it all done but I can get it started. So I told B I remembered packing my dad's lunches. I think I was about 9 when I did it. He had a big black lunchbox. It was big enough to hold his thermos and food. I really don't remember what I packed him. I think I remember packing him bologna cheese with mustard sandwiches a lot. To this day I still like a sandwich like that. I also don't remember why I made his lunch and why my mom didn't? I guess I was just his little girl showing him how much I loved him.
So last night as I got my kids lunchboxes out and began packing, I pulled out B's and started his lunch too.

pepper on my cantelope

I saw the train in my small downtown this morning. I even recognized the engineer as one I had seen before. I was in the tea house and I waved through the window at him and he waved back. So friendly. A simple train made me think back to when I was a child and lived across the street from the train. I was back to being back in Culleoka and 8 years old. If we were close to the track we always ran out to wave. We also walked the track even though we knew we weren't supposed to do it. Rebels! Granny's (she lived across from us) house was real close to the track and every time the house would shake until the train would pass. I can smell the pancakes she cooked for us in the mornings right now. And see my Papa sitting there reading the paper, stirring his sweet and low into his coffee. And if he was having canteloupe he would sprinkle some pepper on it. He said it brought the flavor out. And guess who puts pepper on their canteloupe now? It really does make it taste good.