We Lived

Anyone who remembers life in a railroad apartment knows there were both pros and cons for occupancy.

I will not dwell on the negatives, but prefer to remember one positive of my childhood.

If you were very quiet when walking the long hallway dividing the front and back of the apartment, no one heard or saw you approach.

Often my sister and I chose that method without alerting either parent or my ever present aunt of our approach

We knew and were quite careful to stay toward the outer wall. If we did that, we avoided the painful pricks from the curtain stretchers Mom used to keep our lace curtains stiffly starched at all times. When I was most annoyed at their habitual presence, I loudly complained that I was forced to run a gauntlet several times daily.

However the long hallway also permitted a “peek” of Easter egg baskets as well as gaily wrapped surprises waiting on our kitchen table.

Ellen was always far more daring than I. Occasionally, because she lingered longer than I, we came close to being caught before scurrying back to the long hall and returning to our bedroom.

Our innocence protected us from the soon revealed reality that railroad apartments were on the wrong side of the tracks.

Yet today a lifetime later, I understand like everything else in life, It wasn't all bad.

Indeed not, because it was a moment in time when the simplist of pleasures was enough.

We didn’t yearn for a penthouse because we had the roof, aptly named tar beach.

Neighbors communicated via the dumb waiter nightly sharing happy news with whispers.

And both Ellen and I survived without scarring from those lethal curtain stretchers.

And lived to remember how much we were loved.