My Saltine Crackers

I used to walk down to the railroad tracks when I needed a spot to think. Behind my house there was a rusty set of tracks that ran through a field of dry grass. It seemed to stretch on forever, so it was easy to lose track of time walking those rails, just my thoughts and me.

Some days I’d spend time thinking about the clouds, how they could fly across the sky without a care. It looked so easy to be a cloud, all white and puffy, free with the wind. They were like the cars of a train, following their own little sky trails. Sometimes I wished I could fly up there and melt with them into the sunset.

Whenever I was too tired to walk real far down the railroad tracks, but was not ready to go home, I’d sit instead under a big bur oak tree and think. It wasn’t too far away from my house, just over an hour or so away. That tree was grey and old, but it still had lots of bright green leaves in the summer. I would lean up against the trunk, pick at the grass blades around it, and wonder what made horses like to eat the stuff. Sitting in the shade, I’d kick of my shoes and take off my shirt, lay on the grass and stare up at all the branches and the leaves. That was when it was hot. Then a breeze would move through the leaves and make sunlight bounce between them— it was calming to watch them dance like that. After a while, my eyes would get spotty with the bright light, so I’d close my eyelids and see all the colors. 

Often, I would talk with the old tree, because he was good at listening, or at least he didn’t seem to mind. He was the only tree for miles in the big field with the railroad tracks, so he probably liked my company. The bur oak—I called him Boris— was patient as he would hear me talk about school and how boring it was, and how the other kids weren’t very friendly. Boris would listen to me tell him things for a long time, would hear me talk about Mom and Dad, how they didn’t get along anymore. But that didn’t matter. Really it didn’t, and Boris always seemed to understand.

The railroad tracks were easy to see from where he was. They stretched on and on, as far as the clouds went, until they turned somewhere around the foothills and faded away. I would wonder where they went, beyond those hills as they slid over the land, and imagine myself walking all the way to the end of the tracks, to the sunset, so I could fall into its pink flames until I met the moon.

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When I turned eleven, I decided it was time to test how far I could walk down the railroad tracks. It would be a nice adventure to celebrate my birthday. The clouds would be my traveling friends— they would keep me company while I followed the heat of the summer sun, waiting for my skin to turn all pink under it.

On the morning of my eleventh birthday, I left the house before my parents were up. I hadn’t slept very well, but neither of my parents did either, surely, as they had been yelling again. Dad was drinking, but he wasn’t supposed to be, and Mom found him. I listened from my bed, until Mom shut the door to their bedroom hard and Dad stomped clumsily over to his recliner and fell asleep. He snored for the rest of the night, and from across the hallway in Mom’s room, the sounds of her crying made it into my room. I didn’t sleep for a long while.

I woke up tired but ready for my birthday adventure. The sky was a dark blue still, just light enough to see, but the sun was only peeking over the horizon. I tiptoed over the stains on the carpet, careful not to wake up Dad on his recliner on my way to the kitchen pantry. He had a grey stubble growing in on his chin, or chins, as his head leaned down. Every few seconds he would snore loud, and I’d walk a few steps while the floor creaked, and then wait for the next snore to rattle his nose. After a couple minutes, I found the pantry, opened it up slowly as it squeaked. Mom had been complaining about those hinges for a long time, but she never got to fixing them. She used to be handy like that, until she started getting headaches. Then she was just too tired. I reached into one of the shelves and dug out a tin of saltine crackers, brand new. They would be my birthday adventure snack.

With my saltines in an old paper bag, I left the house, taking care to close the backyard door slowly. I didn’t think anyone would care that I left, but that was not something I wanted to test. The chain link fence was easy to hop over, right into the railroad field. My heart beat fast in my chest. I’m not sure why, but I looked back at the house for a second glance, and then cringed at the gray dust it was covered with. It used to be white. I ran faster.

The red tracks were like a familiar friend. I stepped onto the right rail and put one foot in front of the other— I was good at balancing, learning where to put my weight, shifting it from the ball of my foot to my heel, keeping my arms out all the way. Letting my arms go out, I felt their hairs stick up in the morning chill. My short sleeves weren’t much for protection from the cold, but the sun would come out soon and warm up the air, so I kept going.

My eyes were taking some time to adjust to the dark, so most of what I saw were shadows. It was easy to listen when it was too dark to see clearly. Morning crickets made noise with their little sing song voices they had, and I wondered what sort of things they were yelling about to each other. Maybe they were like Mom and Dad, or maybe they were just wishing each other a good morning. An owl made a hooing sound, and a few early birds were chirping. I stepped off the rail onto the grass, and I listened as it crunched beneath my sneakers. I knew that it would be wet with dew, but I didn’t mind if my socks grew damp, because water came from the clouds, and the clouds were friendly.

I was startled when I heard my stomach rumble, and then remembered my saltines. I opened the bag, and it crinkled as I pulled out the box of crackers. Opening the lid to the tin, it made a hollow pop sound that seemed too loud for the quiet morning. Then I took out a cracker and felt the salt crystals on its surface, and then put it into my mouth, crunching it. The crunch was still too loud for the morning, so I didn’t chew the next one, but just let it sit on my tongue.

Mom once told me when I was little that saltine crackers turned to sugar if let to sit on my tongue. I waited for the cracker to dissolve. When I swallowed it, the cracker had a sweet taste...

Suddenly I remembered her face, singing the birthday song to me in the car exactly a year ago. Her hair fell around her face because she was leaning over me, and her eyes were bright blue like mine, and they looked tired but happy. Those eyes hadn’t been happy in months. She told me we were going on a birthday car trip—Dad had been yelling that morning, having been woken up from one of his drinking naps, and after that she and I left for the surprise birthday trip. When she was done singing to me, she hugged me and rubbed my back nice...

One of the wooden railway sleepers tripped me; I wasn’t paying attention to where my feet were. I didn’t fall, even though my eyes were watering a little, and I didn’t know why. The sun was beginning to come out, and the sky looked a little like a campfire. Putting another cracker in my mouth, I waited for the salt to disappear and turn sweet. 

I picked up my feet and tried hopping over the slabs of wood, making a game out of it. Something kept me from having fun in the game, and my eyes wouldn’t stop being watery. Then for some reason I turned back around and looked in the direction of the house. It was long gone by then, so my feet kept walking. Then I noticed I had been carrying a cracker in my hand but not eating it, just turning it over and over, feeling its corners. The salt was rubbing off, joining the earthy red rails. Suddenly I felt like crushing the cracker, felt like letting it crumble in my hands and fingers. I did. The crumbs fell to the ground and dusted over the tracks. I replaced the lid of the cracker tin and put them back in the paper bag, and then I felt better.

The sun was climbing higher, and the sky was turning bluer. There were a few white clouds flying about. They made me forget about the crackers. I went back to balancing on the rail, using my arms, pretending I was one of those trick people in the circus. I had never been to a circus, but knew that there were people who balanced on things in them. Sometimes it was nice to wonder if I could ever be in a circus. If they had anything to do with balancing on railroad tracks, I could do it. I did a small jump, and I couldn’t help but smile upon landing and catching myself, secure on the rail.

Dad once told me he’d take me to a circus one day, when he had enough money. That was years ago, when I was little. I told him about a penny I’d found and said maybe I could find another. He just patted me on the head and smiled at me, and he didn’t say anything, but just walked off, opening one of his drinks.

Remembering made me shaky; I stumbled off the rail a little after losing my balance, so I stopped remembering. I started walking on the scratchy yellow grass again. The sun was getting higher, and it was getting warm. There was sweat on my forehead. My eyebrows were all scrunched together, and my eyes were trying to cry, even though it was my birthday, my birthday adventure.

Another memory came. I wasn’t sure why. I remembered three years ago when Mom and Dad both gave me a small birthday party. Mom bought some candy from the store, and we ate chocolates and caramels. Both of my parents sang me the birthday song. Dad had his arm around Mom’s shoulders, and he was smiling. So was Mom. She looked awake and happy. Dad wasn’t holding one of his drinks...

I heard a pat pat sound; my tears were falling on my paper bag with the saltines. I sniffed and stopped walking to wipe the wet drops from my face. Then I stood up straighter and scrunched up my face all tight so the tears would stop, breathing big breaths.

Consoling myself, I remembered my mission. Walk to the sunset, follow the railroad behind the foothills. Drift away with the cloud trains—friends, ride the heat of the sun, get buried in the blueness of the sky, melt into the pink and orange flames of the sunset. I looked up and saw all the clouds, and then there was Boris, off to the right. He was big and friendly, and the wind made his branches wave back and forth, like he was wanting me to come. I obliged. A break would be nice.

I wondered if the big tree would be in the mood to listen for a while. He looked happy, as green as any other summer day. Walking to him, I imagined his branches moving toward me and carrying me in, like a hug. But trees don’t give hugs.

Reaching out when I was close enough, I touched his trunk, feeling the rough gray bark. There was a low hanging branch, and I decided to climb up on it. It was comfortable on that branch, leaning up against Boris. Next to me there were two branches that grew close to each other, leaving a spot for me to place my cracker tin. Then I looked up at the leaves, touched one that was hanging above my head, felt its leathery skin.

“It’s my birthday, Boris,” I said after some time.

I waited for the leaves to rustle a bit in the wind.

“Now I’m eleven years old.”

The leaves rustled more, and I smiled.

“I don’t know how old you are. You’ve probably lived a long time.”

A gentle swoosh.

“Mom and Dad are at the house...”

I waited for the leaves, but they didn’t come very quick. It was silent for a few seconds. I hugged my knees to my chest and rested my chin on top of them.

One of the leaves fell and drifted down, falling on top of my head. I picked it up, letting it twirl in my fingers. Then a tear dropped on the leaf, rolling down its leathery skin, crawling across the tiny veins. Trying to stop them was no use. They just kept dripping, down on my hands, on the leaf. Little noises were escaping my mouth. I couldn’t help it, and I didn’t know why. The wind grew strong and all the leaves rustled, powerfully, not aggressively. Suddenly I heard rumbling, a deep vibrating sound. It wasn’t my belly, so I looked up, drying off the tears that had gathered on my cheeks. There was a whistle, but the railroad hadn’t been used in ages.

Grabbing my saltines, I climbed back down the tree. The sun was climbing higher and was very warm—so warm that after enough time spent under it, I’d probably get more freckles. My feet took me back toward the tracks, then followed down the side, keeping a safe distance. They stepped toward the foothills, away from my house behind me, toward where the sun would set. I kept walking even as the vibrating got louder, and the whistle of the approaching train grew stronger.

The rails were shaking; the train would be coming shortly. I gripped the paper bag with saltines firmly in my right hand. I kept walking until the train caught up with me.

Its face was bright yellow, and it had a big light in the front. It was menacing, the way it powered over my tracks. I stood still for a moment, watching it rush past me. Then I started running, sprinting, wanting suddenly to match the pace of the train. There was a car that was open wide, so I ran faster, as fast as I could, holding tight to the saltine bag. I reached out with my hand as the car came up to me, to grab on, to ride off into the sunset, to see what was behind the foothills, fall off of the horizon and meet the man on the moon—I stretched my arm out...

Then all my memories came: Mom pushing me on a swing in the park when I was six. Dad taking me on a walk after I had a bad day at school when I was seven. We just walked quietly, he even took me down my railroad track for a while, and it cheered me up. My birthday party with the chocolates and caramels came to mind, back when they were happy. I remembered last year with Mom’s car birthday adventure for me while we left Dad at home, and then the night before when my parents were yelling and Mom cried herself to sleep, Dad’s snoring all through the night...

I tripped, and this time fell all the way. I fell forward, hurting my chin, next to the tracks as the big wheels screamed past my left ear, car after car, rumbling away. The grass tickled my nose, so I sat up, and the tears flowed freely, and the sounds came out of my mouth loud, but could barely be heard over the train that drove past.

The last car went by me and made its way down the tracks, following the rest of the cars and the clouds, in the direction of the foothills, where they could all melt into the sunset. I sat up, still crying, and hugged my knees to my chest again, watching the last car get smaller and smaller in the distance. I closed my eyes and saw Mom’s smiling face in the car last year, her happy blue eyes. And then all I could hear was her crying last night, and then I only thought of how Mom was at home, and Dad was too, and that I missed when they were happy, when Mom didn’t cry and Dad didn’t drink and Mom wasn’t tired and didn‘t have headaches and neither of them yelled at each other. Then I knew why I was crying, even though it was my birthday adventure.

I lifted my head and picked up my brown paper bag, took out the saltines. The clouds floated above me, and Boris watched from behind as I let cracker after cracker dissolve in my mouth, tasting my sugary birthday saltines.