Day 41: I am thankful for the escape of imagination.
The train whistle blew…
I was carrying a large cardboard box half my size containing a precious item.
I was small, just 5 years old, my blond, wispy hair hanging in my face because I needed both hands to wrangle this awkward item up the stairs of the train.
The item in the box suddenly shifted its weight.
I could see the frightened little eyes through the air holes in the box.
The uniformed man on the train knew what I was carrying and saw I was having trouble lifting the box.
My mother was busy with the luggage and navigating all three of her kids on to the train.
The man smiled warmly and extended his hand, taking the box with such ease, as if it weighed nothing.
He could see I did not want to let the box out of my sight, assuring me,
“It’s okay, little lady, your baby will be safe on our train. We have a cabin where you can all get settled for you trip back to Denver. And the little critter here can watch the sights as we go.”
We departed San Francisco…my new kitten, George, and I planted firmly by the window in the snug cabin watching as we made the long beautiful trip through the Rockies.
I wrote. I was happy.
********************************************************************
All aboard, next stop…
I was so excited that I could barely contain myself.
My mom and I were travelling to New York from Washington DC to visit Uncle Nicolai.
Well, he wasn’t really my uncle, if you get my drift, but he was a wonderful man who had become like a dad to me when my father left.
He had invited us to meet his mother in Upstate New York.
Being the youngest I still got dragged where mom went, so together we went.
In return, my mom promised we would spend a night in New York City before heading for the backwoods of Upstate.
“Deal!”
I don’t know which was more glorious…Union Station in DC, the train ride, or Grand Central Station in New York.
Both stations were decked out for the holidays.
Staring out that train window, the trip was like a fairy tale, taking a trip back in time, away from the ills of the life of a 9 year old, parents’ divorce, the long move from Denver to DC, starting at a new school.
I wrote. I was happy.
******************************************************************************
The next trip brought uncertainty…
It was a momentous occasion, although I found the whole thing quite confusing.
My mom insisted we dress up.
My sister was becoming a nun.
Both parents would be at the ceremony at the convent. One of the first times I had seen my father in years.
The train trip to Baltimore was short and fraught with tension.
But the day was warm and sunny.
And once again, I got to stare out the train window and let my imagination take me to faraway places.
I wrote. I was happy.
*****************************************************************************
Another milestone…
I was all dressed up again…well, as much as a tom boy dresses up for such an event, much to my mother’s chagrin.
Khakis and a t-shirt was all I could muster.
I did not like all these changes.
Now my big brother was graduating from college.
I was in the control of pubescent demons, and I did not let anyone forget how displeased I was.
We once again made the trip to Union Station, which still held a significant amount of awe for me despite my teenage hormones making me think everything was stupid.
We made our way from DC to Pennsylvania, eventually ending up at a small station in Swarthmore.
It was a very small outdoor wooden station, like an out-post you would see in the Old West.
Once again, my imagination took me to a different place.
I wrote. I was happy.
*****************************************************************************
Last East Coast trip…
I would soon be moving to Santa Barbara, CA with my mom, finishing my junior year of high school at a new school.
My best friend and I climbed on a train in Virginia for a “girls’ trip” to a sunny beach in Georgia.
I got my first taste of the South and independence.
It was a glorious few days of silliness and joy spent with an amazing confidant.
This woman became the god mother to both my children and remains my best friend 35 years later.
I wrote. I was happy.
******************************************************************************
Missing the escape of the train trip…
In California, I realized how much the automobile dominates this country.
There were few train trips to be had, just a few quick jaunts from Santa Barbara to Los Angeles.
But those short trips certainly riled the beauty of the other trips I had in the past.
There was something magical about having majestic mountains on one side of the train and the sparkling blue Pacific on the other.
But life was quickly swallowing me up.
The magic of the train window was fading.
Why was the ability to let my imagination take me away waning?
I couldn’t write. I told myself I was happy.
******************************************************************************
Fast forward…
Another college graduation, only this time it is my son’s.
We now live in Milwaukee with my son attending college in Chicago.
I am divorced after meeting my husband in California, moving to Wisconsin to be close to his family, and 20 years of marriage.
Within the last ten years, my husband left, I lost my businesses, my home, car, self-esteem. I got diagnosed with breast cancer and had a double mastectomy, lost my boobs too, I guess you could say.
Then this train ride…a short one from Milwaukee to Chicago.
The countryside is flat and boring.
But something happens.
The magic of the train window returns.
When I look through the window I see possibilities.
I can once again imagine.
It’s not my destination.
It is the journey and allowing the world of the train window to exist.
I write. I am happy.
The train whistle blew…
I was carrying a large cardboard box half my size containing a precious item.
I was small, just 5 years old, my blond, wispy hair hanging in my face because I needed both hands to wrangle this awkward item up the stairs of the train.
The item in the box suddenly shifted its weight.
I could see the frightened little eyes through the air holes in the box.
The uniformed man on the train knew what I was carrying and saw I was having trouble lifting the box.
My mother was busy with the luggage and navigating all three of her kids on to the train.
The man smiled warmly and extended his hand, taking the box with such ease, as if it weighed nothing.
He could see I did not want to let the box out of my sight, assuring me,
“It’s okay, little lady, your baby will be safe on our train. We have a cabin where you can all get settled for you trip back to Denver. And the little critter here can watch the sights as we go.”
We departed San Francisco…my new kitten, George, and I planted firmly by the window in the snug cabin watching as we made the long beautiful trip through the Rockies.
I wrote. I was happy.
********************************************************************
All aboard, next stop…
I was so excited that I could barely contain myself.
My mom and I were travelling to New York from Washington DC to visit Uncle Nicolai.
Well, he wasn’t really my uncle, if you get my drift, but he was a wonderful man who had become like a dad to me when my father left.
He had invited us to meet his mother in Upstate New York.
Being the youngest I still got dragged where mom went, so together we went.
In return, my mom promised we would spend a night in New York City before heading for the backwoods of Upstate.
“Deal!”
I don’t know which was more glorious…Union Station in DC, the train ride, or Grand Central Station in New York.
Both stations were decked out for the holidays.
Staring out that train window, the trip was like a fairy tale, taking a trip back in time, away from the ills of the life of a 9 year old, parents’ divorce, the long move from Denver to DC, starting at a new school.
I wrote. I was happy.
******************************************************************************
The next trip brought uncertainty…
It was a momentous occasion, although I found the whole thing quite confusing.
My mom insisted we dress up.
My sister was becoming a nun.
Both parents would be at the ceremony at the convent. One of the first times I had seen my father in years.
The train trip to Baltimore was short and fraught with tension.
But the day was warm and sunny.
And once again, I got to stare out the train window and let my imagination take me to faraway places.
I wrote. I was happy.
*****************************************************************************
Another milestone…
I was all dressed up again…well, as much as a tom boy dresses up for such an event, much to my mother’s chagrin.
Khakis and a t-shirt was all I could muster.
I did not like all these changes.
Now my big brother was graduating from college.
I was in the control of pubescent demons, and I did not let anyone forget how displeased I was.
We once again made the trip to Union Station, which still held a significant amount of awe for me despite my teenage hormones making me think everything was stupid.
We made our way from DC to Pennsylvania, eventually ending up at a small station in Swarthmore.
It was a very small outdoor wooden station, like an out-post you would see in the Old West.
Once again, my imagination took me to a different place.
I wrote. I was happy.
*****************************************************************************
Last East Coast trip…
I would soon be moving to Santa Barbara, CA with my mom, finishing my junior year of high school at a new school.
My best friend and I climbed on a train in Virginia for a “girls’ trip” to a sunny beach in Georgia.
I got my first taste of the South and independence.
It was a glorious few days of silliness and joy spent with an amazing confidant.
This woman became the god mother to both my children and remains my best friend 35 years later.
I wrote. I was happy.
******************************************************************************
Missing the escape of the train trip…
In California, I realized how much the automobile dominates this country.
There were few train trips to be had, just a few quick jaunts from Santa Barbara to Los Angeles.
But those short trips certainly riled the beauty of the other trips I had in the past.
There was something magical about having majestic mountains on one side of the train and the sparkling blue Pacific on the other.
But life was quickly swallowing me up.
The magic of the train window was fading.
Why was the ability to let my imagination take me away waning?
I couldn’t write. I told myself I was happy.
******************************************************************************
Fast forward…
Another college graduation, only this time it is my son’s.
We now live in Milwaukee with my son attending college in Chicago.
I am divorced after meeting my husband in California, moving to Wisconsin to be close to his family, and 20 years of marriage.
Within the last ten years, my husband left, I lost my businesses, my home, car, self-esteem. I got diagnosed with breast cancer and had a double mastectomy, lost my boobs too, I guess you could say.
Then this train ride…a short one from Milwaukee to Chicago.
The countryside is flat and boring.
But something happens.
The magic of the train window returns.
When I look through the window I see possibilities.
I can once again imagine.
It’s not my destination.
It is the journey and allowing the world of the train window to exist.
I write. I am happy.
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