I am supposed to be riding my bike to my gran-gran’s house. It’s less than a mile – not far – but there is a long hill to peddle up if I go the way I’m supposed to go. However, right next to our house is a shortcut I could cut through. I’d have to dodge, and I know I’m not allowed to do it, but I really don’t want to navigate that hill. I turn the corner from the house, and out of ……. As she finishes sweeping the front porch.
I turn right and make a fast break for it, hoping the hedge of oleander bushes are high enough to hide my rebellion deed. I peddle through the chain link fence, past the large brick building with its huge sliding doors. Fortunately, it is midday and most of the workers are already out on jobs. After I clear the gate on the opposite side, I come to a building that has always fascinated me – the old passenger train stations from when you could come all the way to Beaufort on the train. Now the closest you can get to Beaufort on the train is Yamasee, and we’ve taken my grandmother there several times to catch the train to Jacksonville so she could visit my uncle. The thought of being able to board a train basically right on our own backyard and go anywhere in the United States is so appealing to my curious 8-year-old self.
I wheel my bike up to the side of the station and disembark. I figured if I was already in trouble for taking the short-cut, trespassing on the Railroad Station couldn’t be but another step on the road to predictions.
The Station had two rooms – one pretty empty (I would later find out this was for items to be held that were being shipped), and the other still contained the ticket window and several rows of wooden benches that ran along the sides and center of the room. It looked as if you could still enter and take off on that magical trip.
I always wanted to rehab that building into a house, but sadly it was torn down in the mid 70’s, forgotten by everyone by then, including me.
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