The morning I left for the train to Rhode Island, it began to snow. It wasn't until I was a teenager, I had never seen snow while growing up in Texas. With a mother who is from Thailand, anytime I went to Chiang Mai to visit family meant leaving a warm place (Austin) and arriving in a tropical place (Thailand). It is now in my adult like that snow has become more than a fascination, but a love; for the cold that pinches my cheeks and the frozen particles of moisture that melt on my eyelashes.
The train ride to Rhode Island was quite beautiful and convinced me that I should only ever travel up north by train. After finding an empty table in the dining car with a magazine and my camera, I sat beside the window and watched the blur of the East Coast landscape whip by as the train sped along.
Rhode Island, while small and residential (it takes 40 minutes to travel from one side of the state to the other!), is beautiful and perfect with its New England architecture and the smell of the ocean. Growing up, I remember tracing my fingers over a map of the United States, in wonder of all the states I had never been to and tracing the cartography that guides the ridges for each separate state. I had never planned it, but there's something pretty wonderful about seeing some of the oldest states of the country and witnessing the way history has changed over time.