Catherine Nicolai

Beyond the depot was a small town, and while it wasn't exactly our own little village, it was a sort of tribute to it. there was a movie theater showing Miracle on 34th Street, per their marquee. The sidewalks were heaped with snow, just like our own, and there were cars stopped at the streetlights, with fir trees tied to the roofs. I leaned down to look into the shops.

where people were buying toys and standing on street corners with wrapped presents under their arms. All this time, the trains hadn't been running. Maybe to let the onlookers take in all the details first. Or maybe because they were just running on the schedule, set by the tiny station master. Either way, with a whistle and a whir, they all came to life and began to travel over the tracks.

where people were buying toys and standing on street corners with wrapped presents under their arms. All this time, the trains hadn't been running. Maybe to let the onlookers take in all the details first. Or maybe because they were just running on the schedule, set by the tiny station master. Either way, with a whistle and a whir, they all came to life and began to travel over the tracks.

where people were buying toys and standing on street corners with wrapped presents under their arms. All this time, the trains hadn't been running. Maybe to let the onlookers take in all the details first. Or maybe because they were just running on the schedule, set by the tiny station master. Either way, with a whistle and a whir, they all came to life and began to travel over the tracks.

I picked one to follow with my eyes and saw a bright red engine leave the station. with several cars full of passengers. The lights in the lobby dimmed, and the lights in the trains grew brighter. The Christmas tree in their tiny town square glowed with colored bulbs. Another locomotive caught my eye, this one a shiny black,

I picked one to follow with my eyes and saw a bright red engine leave the station. with several cars full of passengers. The lights in the lobby dimmed, and the lights in the trains grew brighter. The Christmas tree in their tiny town square glowed with colored bulbs. Another locomotive caught my eye, this one a shiny black,

I picked one to follow with my eyes and saw a bright red engine leave the station. with several cars full of passengers. The lights in the lobby dimmed, and the lights in the trains grew brighter. The Christmas tree in their tiny town square glowed with colored bulbs. Another locomotive caught my eye, this one a shiny black,

And as it stopped to let a freight train chug across its tracks, I leaned down and saw their dining car lit up and full of passengers and servers. White tablecloths were spread over the tables and meals and drinks laid out. Again, I imagined myself there. What might I order? Or would I be the bartender, shaking up a cocktail behind the bar as the snowy land slipped past?

And as it stopped to let a freight train chug across its tracks, I leaned down and saw their dining car lit up and full of passengers and servers. White tablecloths were spread over the tables and meals and drinks laid out. Again, I imagined myself there. What might I order? Or would I be the bartender, shaking up a cocktail behind the bar as the snowy land slipped past?

And as it stopped to let a freight train chug across its tracks, I leaned down and saw their dining car lit up and full of passengers and servers. White tablecloths were spread over the tables and meals and drinks laid out. Again, I imagined myself there. What might I order? Or would I be the bartender, shaking up a cocktail behind the bar as the snowy land slipped past?

The freight train cleared the tracks. The switch was thrown and the diners sped off. I walked around the platform to take in another angle and saw a forest green engine pulling its cars up a steep mountain path. Beside the tracks were snow-covered trees and ice-capped peaks and a tunnel cut through the rock. I thought of the person who must have made this little world.

The freight train cleared the tracks. The switch was thrown and the diners sped off. I walked around the platform to take in another angle and saw a forest green engine pulling its cars up a steep mountain path. Beside the tracks were snow-covered trees and ice-capped peaks and a tunnel cut through the rock. I thought of the person who must have made this little world.

The freight train cleared the tracks. The switch was thrown and the diners sped off. I walked around the platform to take in another angle and saw a forest green engine pulling its cars up a steep mountain path. Beside the tracks were snow-covered trees and ice-capped peaks and a tunnel cut through the rock. I thought of the person who must have made this little world.

The storytelling and drama they were able to build into it. A thing like this must have taken hours and hours. And I felt quite lucky to get to experience it at all. It's a thing I love about humans, when they find a passion and put themselves into it. The gardener who knows the Latin names for all the plants in their greenhouse.

The storytelling and drama they were able to build into it. A thing like this must have taken hours and hours. And I felt quite lucky to get to experience it at all. It's a thing I love about humans, when they find a passion and put themselves into it. The gardener who knows the Latin names for all the plants in their greenhouse.

The storytelling and drama they were able to build into it. A thing like this must have taken hours and hours. And I felt quite lucky to get to experience it at all. It's a thing I love about humans, when they find a passion and put themselves into it. The gardener who knows the Latin names for all the plants in their greenhouse.

The amateur astronomer watching for a comet in the quiet of early morning. Knitters and potters and model railroad enthusiasts. Isn't it just a different version of the little kid who knows every kind of dinosaur? When I was in college, there was a storefront between the bagel shop I stopped at most every morning and my first class of the day.

The amateur astronomer watching for a comet in the quiet of early morning. Knitters and potters and model railroad enthusiasts. Isn't it just a different version of the little kid who knows every kind of dinosaur? When I was in college, there was a storefront between the bagel shop I stopped at most every morning and my first class of the day.

The amateur astronomer watching for a comet in the quiet of early morning. Knitters and potters and model railroad enthusiasts. Isn't it just a different version of the little kid who knows every kind of dinosaur? When I was in college, there was a storefront between the bagel shop I stopped at most every morning and my first class of the day.

In that shop, a man with silver hair made fine suits by hand. And I often peered in to watch him, dressed neatly in one of his own suits, as he ironed a fabric and marked it with chalk. Years later, I still thought of him often. His work was clearly a passion. and he did it with such care and skill. The people who wore his suits must have felt like they were walking around in a work of art.