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My Big Fat Lesbian Divorce – Reckless Train Rides

In AP News, attorneys, Ben and Jerrys Ice Cream Comfort, Blog, Break-up, Choose Joy, christian, civil unions, communication, court, Crying, Current events, dating, Divorce, Edgefield McMenamins, Facebook, family, feelings, Fleetwood Mac, friendship, gay, God, grief, homosexuality, Laughing stars, Law, Lesbian, Lesbian Relationships, lgbt, Life, Love, Marriage, movies, Musician, news, Pain, parenting, Politics, portland oregon, relationships, religion, sex, single, sleep, The Little Prince, Uncategorized on October 25, 2011 at 6:55 am

I’ve written three different paragraphs and I’ve deleted them all.

A Train Ride

(edited 10/2011)

Leaning against the window, I can feel the cool glass of the window pane against my cheek. True to the way a train moves down the tracks, it rocks back and forth and I find no comfort in leaning against the window other than my eyes are searching for a glimpse of the next stop.

Houses, small towns, fields sprinkled with colors of spring.. all pass by.

My bags are packed (well, really only one bag) and I am clutching the handles in my hands because I’m afraid I might let go and let it drop to the floor. There’s no room in the overhead for my things.

When I boarded I tried to find space for my bag. I glanced at some of the tags and noticed some of them had been there years. On the lip of the over head was a tag that read “Do not touch, ask about, or even think of moving the bags that are here upon your arrival” so I just tried to fit mine in between the hard shell cases left behind.

I looked around to see if anyone would notice me reaching up and tugging gently on one of the suitcases left behind. If I could just slip it down and move it behind a seat, no one would notice. The suitcase had been there for years, so I doubted the owner would be coming around to retrieve it anytime soon.

Pulling it down proved to be a bit more work. As I reached up to slip it down, it was as if the bag was glued to the shelf. As I stood there gently tugging, I glanced out the window and became mesmerized by the passing fields and the excitement of an unknown destination. I wasn’t focused on what I stood up to do in the first place and so somewhere between the distraction of the beauty and intrigue, I simply went back to my seat with my bag in my lap. As I realized the choice I had made, I thought maybe I would feel better if I kept my bag in my lap anyways, just in case the train asked me to unboard quickly.

Now as I sit here with my cheek pressed against the window, I can not clutch it tightly enough.

As I stand up between stops and walk up and down the empty aisles to stretch my legs, I’ve the train seems to take off rather quick. With no warning of departure, I’ve been unprepared for the the quick acceleration and stumbled a little to hurry back to find my seat. A few times falling backwards and being tossed back into the place where I was sitting like a last minute thought. But just as I was adjusting the seat, and getting comfortable, the train would come to a full stop void of warning and I would be thrust forward like a rag doll without care or consideration.

From time to time the train will come to a stop for a long period of time. I would sit waiting for other passengers to arrive, maybe someone looking to claim their baggage, but no one ever shows. As I stand to walk up and down the aisles to stretch my legs, I quietly wonder why there were so many seats on the train, if I am the only passenger. In fact, I realize I have never even seen the conductor or anyone else. Who is driving this train? I ponder this for a minute and decide to get off at this stop.

Suddenly this ride seems ominous to me. Just as I decide to get off at the stop, the train starts to pull away from the station. I realize at that moment I’m no longer holding my bag and I begin to panic. My most prized possessions were packed for this trip. My eyes search furiously as my heart races, then I see it. Somehow, it’s been moved to crowded overhead. I don’t remember fitting it in, yet I’m positive no one else could have. I quickly walk over to my bag to pull it down and find the bag is stuck to the overhead shelf. This time, I am not distracted by anything other than my clear determination to pull my bag down and quickly find my seat.

This time, I’m not looking to find space for my bag so that I may enjoy the ride. I want off.

The bag falls to my side and I rush to my seat.

As the sound of the train speeds down the track with distinct rhythm I think to myself “Oh God, let this be a short burst between stops.”

The rhythm counts each second as I move from place to place pushing to the next, wishing this ride to end. Now that I want to step off the train, it feels like the longest distance travelled at one time since I’ve boarded the train.

I lean against the window pane looking, hoping.. waiting.

Houses, small towns, fields sprinkled with colors of spring.. all pass by. This time I don’t smile with a feeling of warmth as the train rushes past, but a longing to be a part of it all again.

As they pass by I press my face a little more to the window hoping for a glimpse of the next station ahead. I want this train ride to end.

I see it. The station, there it is.

Standing up and clutching my bag in hand, I prepare myself for the quick and complete train stop by bracing myself with the seats as I walk towards the exit while the train is still moving.

The train comes to the complete stop it has so many times before, and I push to slide the exit door open. I move quickly to step down and I become still as I put my foot to the ground.

The station is empty.

My eyes sweep across looking for some sign of life, but even the air seems still.

I step fully down and have my right hand on the hand rail. Standing there, I am a little scared and sad about removing my hand.

I argue to myself for a minute about staying on the train and holding to the hope of arriving a destination filled with life, opposed to standing in a deserted station. But I know that sitting on a deserted train heading nowhere is nothing more than exactly that, and I can at least walk away from the station.

I am sure one of those small towns I passed through many times while on the train, is up ahead. Perhaps I will stop by one of the fields and pick some of the flowers that I have admired in passing.

My right hand falls to my side and I turn to the left. My heels against the concrete is the only audible sound as I walk across the platform away from the train, the station and the stillness while clutching my bag tightly.

Behind me I hear the train begin to move and in and in a matter of seconds it rushes past me in the same accelerated manner it has departed so many times before. It moves as quickly as it stops, I have never connected the pattern before now.

Within moments the train disappears from sight and only the faint sounds of the wheels against the tracks is all that is left, but fades quickly.

For a moment, I think I hear the train quickly approaching from behind and stopping abruptly at the station once again. Maybe just ghost sounds.. I don’t know.

I do not turn to look. – L.W. 6/17/2009

Sometimes I stay on the ride longer than I should for whatever reasons I do. Maybe it’s because I’m so smitten by the shiny things that I don’t see the scary things, or maybe it’s because I’m afraid it’s as good as it gets.

Whatever the reasons, I’m learning that if you want to know what the ride is going to be like, look to see what the ride was like for previous passengers. If you listen, you’ll hear.

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