A Train Called Freedom

A Train Called Freedom

By Keelay Ahsley Wullums and Kynzie Madison

Some people complain about being raised on the wrong side of the tracks. Try on the tracks. Growing up, it was always "Lay down, stay down." You can stand up to bullies, but you can't stand up to a train. My favorite was a train called "Freedom." On the 26th car, a brass ring hung down and glinted at me when the moon was on the horizon. I knew if I ever got my hands around it, they'd never let go.

Of course, you can't lay down forever. In between freighters, I would grab anything I could get those dream filled hands on. Got to the point where I could pull out a railroad spike using just my knuckles. The only thing I couldn't hold onto was my family. My dad got some metal shavings caught in his lungs and had to quit managing hedge funds. Either I would have to find food for myself or my sister would have to stop taking violin lessons. All I could do was wait for freedom.

The moon had just crested over the nearby steel mill when I heard the familiar sound of that city on wheels. A mile's worth of box cars all chugging in unison. "1,2,3" I started as they rolled overhead. "8,9,10" did I dare? "15,16, 17" yes, at least, I thougt so. "23, 24" everything I had waited for. I reached into the night and my fingers wrapped around brass.

I saw most of the world through the space between the wheels of freedom. Enough to know it's all the same train on a different track. Never saw my family again. Some idiot forgot to spike down the track they lived on. I'm sure my sister’s ghost played a lovely violin solo at the funeral. Outside of Dayton, a pretty set of lips would whisper sweet nothings to me as I passed by. Despite my hands’ best plans, the lady those lips belonged to convinced ‘em to let go.

We've got a litter of our own now and just like their papi, the kids are grabbing everything in sight. Some people complain about being raised on the wrong side of the tracks, but until you stop picking a side, you'll never know what it's like to be swept away on a train called freedom.