It was 1957, and that year the ambitious L & N Railroad finally acquired the smaller Nashville, Chattanooga, and St. Louis line.  My fiancé, Richard, had just finished training to be an engineer, and I’m standing on the locomotive he would operate for the first time.  It was an exciting day!  After working as a freight handler, his new job would be a big improvement in every way.

That day was the beginning of everything.   Within the year, we had married, and had saved enough to buy a home in a neighborhood that was built for the railroad families, a little frame cottage with a yard on a quiet shady street.  It was close to the rail yard, and close to my job, too.   I worked for an architect, and I guess you could say I was his Girl Friday, but my work hours dwindled as time went on.  I wanted to be at home.

It meant a lot to me, taking care of our home, having supper ready for my husband, gardening, decorating.  Sometimes he had to stay over in Chattanooga or St. Louis, and those nights, I always stayed home, reading or sewing.  I was just happy to be in our little house, even though I missed him.

When we had been married three years, and were starting to wonder why there weren’t any babies yet, I finally became pregnant, and had our first son.  And a year later, the second.  Our daughters came next, two of them.  We enclosed a porch that ran the length of the back of the house for the boys’ bedroom.  It was perfect because their rowdy hijinks could expand easily into the back yard!

They were a gang, loud and self-sufficient, ruled by the girls, even though they were younger.  I always said they raised themselves; I just stayed out of the way!  Of course I fed them and all, but they were amazing kids.  We sometimes thought it would be nice to have a bigger house, but time hurried by and suddenly, they’d all flown the nest.

Richard and I had remained close, but our lives had been so busy with four children that we had forgotten what it was like to be in love.  Those years after the kids moved out and started their own lives were so precious.  No empty nest worries for us!  We reveled in finding each other again.  And when the grandchildren came, we took joy in them and in being part of their lives.

Not all stories are sad!  This is a brief chronicle of a happy marriage, in which simple lives were lived, by people who found happiness in the ordinary, and who kept joy alive.

Written by Leslie, of Mangopunch’s Blog.