Daily Blog Entry

Tonight’s entry is the second prewriting activity for our upcoming essay. What do I smell at the train bridge? This place is located undisturbed amongst beautiful trees and flowers. I smell the sap from the willows and the bark from the pines. I can smell the aroma wafting from the daisies along the dirt road. I can smell a host of new smells originating from our picnic baskets. I smell the fresh deli meats and bread for our sandwiches. I can smell the unmistakable cheese like smell that is originating from a box of Cheez-its. Justin must be with us. I can smell the perfume of the girls who came with us. I can smell the fumes as we shut off our cars, ready to begin our fun. What do I hear at the train bridge? I can hear the laughter of all of my friends. I can hear Nicole telling one of her ridiculous jokes. I can hear Maple recounting a truly unique childhood experience. I hear cameras snapping as we try to record memories at our favorite place. We hear the roar of the trains passing right beneath our feet. We hear the loud blaring of their horns, the rattling of the tracks, and the whoosh of air as it speeds past. At night, I can hear faint sounds of exhaled breath and slight shivers. Best of all, I can hear nothing as we gaze out over the plains and at the sky. I see several sights at the train bridge. I see the numerous smiling faces of all of my friends. I see the beautiful, undisturbed fauna. I see the old, worn wooden bridge that we are standing on. I see the faded graffiti of previous students scrawled on the sides of the bridge. I see the train whoosh past us. I see the flashing red lights at the signal tower letting us know that the train is finally coming. I see new faces at the train bridge as other students are coming. I see the beautiful night sky as we lie on our backs. I see several illuminating shooting stars. I feel several things at the train bridge. I feel the bridge creaking and supporting our weight as we walk across. I feel the loose gravel crumble beneath my shoes. I feel the packed soil as we hurry down the hill to the tracks. I feel the cool metal of the ladder as we climb the signal tower. I feel Meredith’s freezing hands as she asks for me to help warm them up. I feel the hugs from my friends as we enjoy the memories formed at the train bridge. I feel the intense rush of wind blow past our faces as we feel a surge of adrenaline. I feel the warmth of my coat on cold nights, or I feel the warm sun on my face. A typical day or night at the train bridge is always a great time. I would load up a few people in my car, and we would take the thirty-minute drive east of Kirksville. We pull up the dusty dirt road and park. We sit on the familiar wooden bridge and await the trains in anticipation. Most of us travel down a very steep path to get on ground level with the tracks. We then feel the intense whoosh of air pass over us when a train passes. Once we’re done, we head back up the path and lie down on the bride and watch the stars.  

Tuesday, July 8