Red Eyes

It’s hard to make grown-ups listen to you, especially when you’re just eight years old. We had just moved into this very old house. It looked pretty good. I guess it could have used some paint, but who cares? We have been traveling for seven and a half days. We left Apple Blossom, Colorado, before the snow started. Apple Blossom is a beautiful valley covered with the sweet smell of blossom from the apple trees. I kept looking out the back window of the station wagon. I just could not stop looking at the place that had been my home since birth till this very minute. I just kept looking at the rocky road that led down the side of the mountain and over the little wooden bridge that kept the sheep from going into town. I turned my head for one last look at the old mountain goats that always stood just about on top of the mountain as if they owned it. I just kept on looking until everything that reminded me of home was out of sight. We stopped by a river or creek late every afternoon, just long enough to put the large tent up so everyone could get fed, rest, and bathe. After traveling like this for seven and a half days, believe me, anything would look good, even this big old house that needed a couple of coats of paint. At least it has a roof, floor, and thank goodness, a bathroom.