I used to take a train everyday. There was no destination. It would pick me up at the station, go in circles, then take me back to the start. I loved the ride, I would look out the window at the view that never changed. I would pass the city, all its bright lights replicating stars. The trees in between buildings, likely planted purposefully rather than naturally. I would watch the sky dim, the sunsets painting the clouds different shades of pink, sometimes purple. I would pack my favorite lunches for the road. I would throw on my favorite songs throughout the trip, sometimes blasting other times quietly. I always had the train all to myself, no other passengers. Just the train, the ride and myself in perfect peace. Frankly, I never cared for anything else. Just my daily train ride, I never grew tired.
One day the train began to slow. The speeds weren’t the same, it was a significant decrease. It would show up late, then suddenly not at all. I waited at the station for its arrival everyday despite knowing it may never come back. My daily ride became a daily wait. Sit at the station, all alone. Dawn till dusk, looking down the tracks for any sign of its reappearance. It was never clear as to why it stopped, it just did. But it was my favorite ride, my daily commute. I loved the view, loved the journey. I yearned to take it even if one last time, at least this time I would know it was the final ride.
Months passed and I no longer visit the station. I must accept the train will never arrive. Although sometimes, late at night, I return to the tracks. I walk the path of what was once the journey. I look at the city lights from a different view. The sky now dark with little stars left to admire. I sit over the ballast and eat my food, remembering how it tasted better while on the train. The music consoles me as I reminisce the echo of the songs playing through the empty train car. I replay my travels through memories, it’s all I have left of my favorite train.
If My Heart Could Speak 