I always wanted to be a writer.  I discovered the love of the written word through my father.  He was the Master Word Weaver. I can still see him circling the paper, just waiting to land with precision to put on to paper his words.  It is silly as I would become frustrated as I waited for him to land his words on the paper.  It was only a note to my teacher!  But, every word was precise, to the point, with deep intent.  He taught me that what you write on paper is serious.  This is also the reason why writing is like walking into a room naked.  All is bared when you put pen to paper.  Inspite of the reality of the aforementioned paranoia, I am obsessed with sharing my thoughts, my words, my ponderances. 

So please join me in my attempt to share a story, a true story (some things have been changed to protect the innocent, and the victim...both are me, and him) a story of loss, triumph, frustration, longing, and yes a Train Bound for Nowhere!  Thank you for taking the time to stop by and read, "The Box."

Check back often for the remaining Chapters. 

Peace, and remember, you only live once, so what if the train you board really takes you no where, at least you went...