I was lying on the couch one night last week when Stuart's throat clearing and sniffing got to much for me to sleep through. As I was lying twisted up in my blanket to save my skin from chilling against the leather couch, and to protect it later from sticking to it when I'd finally get to sleep, I heard a train softly sound it's whistle in the distance.
When I hear that sound it strikes all of my senses and it strikes hard.
The softness of the sound, the distance. The length of train tracks, the miles of land the driver has crossed. Is he alone? If I was a train driver I'd use my time to think and to look. How many sunrises and sunsets has he seen?
There's something incredibly romantic about the image it conjures in my mind.
Wide open space, golden sunlight, the rhythm of the train on it's tracks...
I wonder about the driver, a lot. Does he enjoy traveling those miles? Does he take pictures of what he sees? Is it what he always wanted to do?
Then I see myself in another life with nothing stopping me from running alongside a train to hop on and go too. Not knowing where I'm going to end up and feeling excited about it. And not only excited but safe. Safe and happy with the change and adventure.
I could swear I've done that before.