When I was little I liked to travel by train. at night.
to go to Sicily did travel by train. Berth. O sleeper.
I never understood the difference: I only know that one had the sheets of cloth, the other had the sheets of paper and train reeked of a smell of iron mixed with garbage summer.
I just care about the quality of bedding.
Why I liked too much sleep on the train at night.
usually start in the late afternoon.
The cases could not be counted.
I waited anxiously forward to dinner because I knew that soon after we were all going to sleep.
My mother was preparing the cooler box containing a million sandwiches with the schnitzel. Then there were the cheese Galbani. And a lot of bottles of ice water. Why saying "You never know"
I was happy even though we were all tight bags with him. Although the compartment was moving around and you could not stand to lose balance. Although there was the smell of garbage mixed with iron summer.
We did a lot of crumbs with those sandwiches. I most of all. Not to show her pushing with your foot under the seat.
had finished eating I began to say "We pull down the beds? Pull down the beds?"
And my mother was always agitated that she stirred when we traveled.
I always wanted to stay on top.
So I sat in my narrow bed with the sheets of paper or cloth.
Mom did the crossword, maybe my sister listened to music with the walk man, Dad and I immediately fell asleep, I thought. Before
cover aspects of the chill on the train because, after a while you are without blankets feel the chill. For me, the thrill was the best moment. Every so often, even now, when I'm in bed waiting for the chill before covering them and so I remember the train and I'm happy.
I liked sleeping in the train because I felt secure from the rocking of the wagon on the rails and so small that compartment.
During those nights my thoughts were more sad, sweetly sad, sad: Although I was only 10 years I was sad. Then
expected when the train stopped at stations. I turned on the contrary, brushing aside the curtain and looked out the window at very late hours, people waiting on the platform.
And I imagine their stories.
Sometimes I look under the bed and saw the face of mother slept intermittently illuminated by lamplight or moonlight. Or watching over my sister's arm dangling. And I felt the breath strong father who mingled with the rhythmic sound of the train.
I often sleep before you close your eyes and bow with a few moments.
I'd like to reopen a time and see me on the train at night.
To hear the sound of the tracks, to see people waiting on the dock, the smell of garbage mixed with iron summer. And make the sad thoughts of a girl of 10 years.
When you say, happiness in small things ...
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