pIt began in the spring of 1956. The thought was to search for a past I didn't want to remember. Georgia had said that we needed to see exactly where we had come from, in order to see where we were going that every step we took outside, we had to look inside, too. ppShe was moving on and here I am with sweaty palms and a step behind, dragging my heels. I didn't want to go back. Wasn't nothin' good there.ppbrppThe train was late by a half hour. A lady on the siding was cursing at the conductor who held his hand out to help her onto the boarding platform. He smiled.ppbrppAs late as the train was, it was surprising how few people waited. No more than twenty milled about, saying last goodbyes or making plans for later meetings. Young mothers hurried here and there after little ones trying to outdo each other. ppbrppThe conductor was finally free of the woman, his brow creased with years of monotony as he looked at his watch to check the schedule. ppIt would make a good painting.ppbrppNo, 1