The first time I rode the train in the United States, I was
with my mom and my pink rabbit blanket. My baby sister was there, too, and we
were headed to Denver, Colorado from Nebraska. I was four-and-a-half.
I remember the big, bright window best - looking out while I felt the train chug along beneath me. That memory is a good one, one
that I think about once or twice a year. It was exciting to have my rabbit
blanket with me, to see the outside zoom past like it does in the car, and to
be traveling. I liked that my mom and my sister and I were together with a few
select belongings stuffed into a suitcase.