But if we roll the windows up and crank the AC, mpg in the Chevy plummets
from 20 to a little less than fifteen, and we’re on a budget.
Off in the distance, a train speaks in Austin. I listen to the whistle and wonder
where it’s going. If it has a long way yet or if it has already arrived.
We’re exploring the South Lamar area on our way to Half-Price Books. We walk
over railroad tracks as the whistle blows again. It sounds closer. Will we see the
I think I can speak for both of us when I say we’re feeling full of life these days.
Suddenly, I fancy walking along these railroad tracks.
Dear Lord, where would we be without the railroad?
I say to Bridget, “We need to walk along these tracks soon.”
She says, “We can do that.”
I look north down the tracks. Their graceful curve through the trees and over the
creeks toward downtown is different than anything I’ve ever seen.
“Austin is so photogenic,” I say. “We need to get a real camera.”
“Right?” Bridget collates some reddish gold hair behind her ear. “It’s such
a beautiful place.”
We hug each other around the waist and face north, wildflowers growing all
around us, trees growing taller than the wildflowers, and glassy skyscrapers
growing taller than the trees, and we understand why so many people love it here.
Austin, you seem to have it all.
Close to Winter Garden, a Florida Orange Center billboard lures us off the
turnpike. The center promises free orange juice samples at exit 304.