(Good friends are those who have your best interests at heart, and they never stop trying to help you along the path to a healthier lifestyle, and that includes mental health. After listening to all the reasons why I never wanted to take a train to Chicago again because of truly traumatic childhood experiences, my best bud finally talked me into giving it another go. And so I did - with results even I didn't foresee.)
It's not a bit unusual for me to wake around 5 a.m., and it doesn't matter if it's a workday or not. I love the quiet, though lately Sarah the pup has been joining me in the kitchen, but once she's been out for a bit things settle down again.
A few weeks back I was in the middle of reading three newspapers, drinking coffee and watching the early news show, but my mind was on the upcoming train trip to LaGrange at precisely 8:06, less than three hours away.
As kids, sis and I had taken more than our share of train trips to Chicago, and every one of them meant that our mom had an appointment at the research hospital there. At first the trips were a novelty; the depot was a blast with its big wooden benches and never-ending parade of travelers. The train ride itself was mostly fun, except we couldn't afford the dining car so we always brought our own food, and we had to save it to eat at the hospital between mom's doctor visits.
Eventually, the twice-yearly jaunt grew old and besides, the reason behind it was frightening even though, or perhaps because, mom kept her prognosis to herself.
Those times are long gone. The last train ride in recent memory was when our youngest and I rode home to Kewanee after living in Arizona for six years. There were more good times than bad, though the bad was pretty awful. Our train hit a pickup truck and the driver didn't make it, so things were pretty low-key after that.
Those thoughts and more swirled around my mind that Wednesday morning. I wanted to make some good memories for a change, and that meant getting to the station on time. I can't stand being late, and it's a good thing because the train arrived and left right on the button.
I was encouraged by hubby and friends to be sure to visit the dining car. That suggestion was to help get over the childhood angst I had over never being able to do that as a kid, but I got so caught up with finding a seat that I forgot to ask where the dining car was. (Answer: right behind the car I was in.)
I tried to sit quickly so I could wave to hubby, but that didn't happen. I was carrying too many shoulder bags to maneuver gracefully down the narrow aisle, and before I knew it I'd thrown myself into a seat so others could get by.
Once my bags were safely placed on the window seat, I took stock of the folks around me. There was the tall young man across from me, sound asleep with his legs curled up as far as he could get them. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, and he must have been awfully tired because newly-embarking passengers and the jolt of the train never woke him.
The two young women in front of me were probably the most fascinating. It took just over two hours to get to LaGrange, and these two were able to sustain nearly non-stop giggling the entire way. Hats off. (I really wanted to say something else, but let's use that - it's more polite).
I could see folks walking back and forth with cups of ice, sodas and chips but I never asked anyone where they got the food. I was too busy listening to music on my MP3 and letting my imagination run away with me. And what a trip that was!
My first thoughts were of J. K. Rowling and how she dreamed up a young boy wizard one day while riding a train. I never saw Harry, or anyone who looked like him, even when we pulled into the Princeton train depot, the town that celebrates Platform 9 3/4 almost every year, so I was off to The Twilight Zone.
A Stop at Willoughby is a TZ favorite of mine. James Daly played a sad stressed-out man who longed for a simpler lifestyle. As he rode the train home one night after work he fell asleep and dreamed of a place called Willoughby. The year was 1888 and the people there lived a stress-free life so unlike his own. It wasn't long before the poor man decided that he'd rather live in the past than face his future so off the train he went. The last scene is of his body being placed in a hearse owned by Willoughby & Son Funeral Home.
Maybe that was the wrong path for my thinking to take, so I looked ahead to meeting my friends for a fun meeting at a Borders Bookstore. It turned out to be too much fun, because now all I can think of is going back. This time I'd pop into the snack car and pass the time there, spend hours at the bookstore, find a diner and have lunch, go back to the bookstore then hop
the train for home.
Seems to me like I've managed to replace those old musty memories with some bright new ones, and I can't wait to do it all over again.
No comments:
Post a Comment