Draped in black, the hillside behind the backyards of Red Hawk Drive homes showed the impact of an overnight train derailment.
Tons of coal poured from derailed hoppers. A stand of trees alongside the track appeared to be propping up the silver train cars, keeping them from rolling down the hill.
The scattered shipment covered the earth, mashing small plants and smothering the soil. It’s odd how memories work. Because at first glance, the mess reminded me of Grandpa.