we would go to Union Station, just because.
I was laying in bed the other morning, in one of those half asleep-half awake moments and I looked past the shades in my room to the outside world. It glowed white, looking like there was snow on the ground (there wasn't). It was just cloudy and the way the world looked through the windy, it looked chillier than normal. Do you know what I mean?
I laid back into bed and closed my eyes. All of a sudden, I remembered walking into Union Station, holding Dad's hand, and seeing the pictures. At the entrance of Union Station, the one we would always walk into, there used to be a kiosk that belonged to an artist. He had simple line drawings of St. Louis set up. I was always transfixed by the ones with the hot-air balloons. Every year, St. Louis has a hot-air balloon festival. I loved the different stages of the balloons in the painting/drawing - some were just getting off the ground, others were half inflated, some were high in the sky.
I remember always begging dad to get it. I have no idea how much they cost or anything like that. I was probably six or seven. But I remember that kiosk so well. And now it's gone. Union Station has pretty much deteriorated into a Hooters, a Houlihan's, and a hotel. There used to be all kinds of shops there - the Disney store, the Nature Company, a WaldenBooks...stuff I cared about. None of those things are left.