Sunday Morning Train Ride

I’m on a train for the first time in quite a while. This is not a regular thing for me.

I’m alone here. No one sitting beside me. I like taking the train. the rumbling and the shaking, the slight swaying. I like watching things roll by through the window. I’m reminded of how I liked to sit and stare out the window on the school bus as a kid. Back then, I would look for patterns. Always on the lookout. Chimneys on houses, the strings of license plates. Couldn’t find any, but I wanted to.

I think the rhythm of the trees and such passing by is soothing, too, even today. Some of the sounds are nice, but sometimes there’s an odd loud clanking that takes me by surprise. I don’t like sudden loud clanks.

I heard an Australian accent (I think) from someone nearby. Most others are speaking what sounds like the local French to my ear. All murmerings out of my reach.

I’m on my way to an all-day gathering. I hope the train will lull me into a good, calm state of mind.

I feel strange. And a little sleepy. This seat is quite comfortable. I feel like I could fall asleep, but I wouldn’t want to miss my stop.