Back in the days when we had to leave Mexico every six months when the visa expired, I for some reason did the trip by myself. My dog and I. And on he second day, after having crossed the border to the US, I stopped at Gila Bend, Arizona.
It was about 104 degrees when we stopped and my dog let out a shriek when he jumped out the car and landed on the tarmac and burned his feet.
We stayed put in the room till it had cooled down enough to go out for a walk.
Behind the Space Age Lodge where we stayed, there was a big rail yard with lots of places for my dog to pee and otherwise mark a brand new, to him, territory.
And there I found the big wonderful nails they use to anchor rails to the planks; I have since learned they are called spikes.
I collected what I could find and for years I used them as paper weights and whenever I needed to hold something down . I loved the way they felt when you had them in your hand, the weight and the form.
And then they got lost. I would occasionally think of them and wonder whatever happened to them till yesterday, when cleaning the upstairs room after painting, I decided to empty a box I had sitting in corner from the day we moved into the house.
And there, at the bottom of this box, were my spikes.
By now they were quite rusty bot otherwise in good condition.
I have been cleaning them and rediscovering how good they feel in my hand.
Glad to have them back.
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