Pardon me, boy

Dad is in the kitchen with Dinah. His fingers strum invisible air banjoes.

Where?

Dad manages to vocalize his question.  I know he's exasperated at my inability to read lips when he is in silent mode.

You are still here in Plano, Texas.

I can't make head nor tails...

Your confusion makes me cry, too.  

Railroad?

Oh, now I've got it.  You  are on the train again, Dad.  The oxygen machine puffs and huffs rhythmically.  It sounds ever so much like the Zephyr waiting for an all aboard down by the station early in the morning.

Alas and alack, clickety clack, I foresee trouble ahead, trouble behind and you know that notion just crossed my mind.

Where?

I've been working at the library.  I've got to go now, Dad.


Why?

I have things to do at my own house.  My eyes water. Dad must wonder how I'm getting off his train.  His skinny chest breathes so rapidly.  His little pufferbelly is 500 miles from his home.

If you miss the train I'm on, you will know that I am gone 
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles, 
A hundred miles, a hundred miles, a hundred miles, a hundred miles, 
You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles. 

Lord I'm one, Lord I'm two, Lord I'm three, Lord I'm four, 
Lord I'm 500 miles from my home. 
500 miles, 500 miles, 500 miles, 500 miles 
Lord I'm five hundred miles from my home. 

© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder