copyright Dawn Landau
10,000 Miles Straight Ahead
My sister Olivia left to ride the rails when she was sixteen. She only told me, but I was 10 and scared. I tattled.
Too late.
Olivia came back three years, 22,400 miles, and an entire lifetime later. She had the best stories. Mom was furious. Dad wiped away a tear and hugged her.
“Stay around,” I said. “For me?”
She nodded, but two weeks later I found the note by my bed.
“That’s who she is,” Dad said.
“Will she ever change?”
“She’s like a train,” he said. “10,000 miles straight ahead, but not an inch left or right.”
The Green-Walled Tower 