She was always going…faster than a bumble bee, quicker than a pigeon on a french fry….always going from here to there, never stopping, always something to get done. And she liked it that way, it kept her head out of her over analytical ass, and the busier she was, the easier it all felt. Like she had a purpose, a calling, or at least someone was always calling her, so she felt important, like she would be missed. Funny thing though, about always going at the speed of the Energizer bunny…eventually the juice runs out. And she knew this. She knew that eventually life would slow her down, make her realize that all this hard work was for naught, and to stop and smell the roses. But she was too busy taking the shortcut over the rosebush to notice. She was needed…she was needed…she was needed…
But there were times throughout the day when she had no place to be but present. As a now bona-fide commuter (all two weeks and all), there was that time on the train, stuck between anonymity and recognition, where the guy seated next to her didn’t know her name and didn’t really care either…that time where she had time to process and think, time to do her crossword or read, time to just be. Because once that car opened its doors, once those strangers that smile became the strangers that push and shove, once that moment from stepping off the train car onto the concrete became a reality, the rat race commenced.
But sitting on a train…with people you do not know, or care to know, the anonymity is priceless. In the world she lived in, (in her head and reality), she was convinced that no one would miss her, no one would notice if she just disappeared for a little while. But every day she disappeared…every day, for 30 minutes, she was anonymous…she was off-the-grid of her reality…. she was free. And while the daily check of email and the night’s events filled some people’s empty time, she just liked to look around, observe life at work. Because if we all took just a second to look around at the world around us at any given time (esp when in a confined traveling space), we might just notice how far we’ve come or how far we’ve yet to travel. Although the Metra was not her solution to the meaning of life, every once in a while, she looked around and thought, hmm…I wonder what’s going on in his life. I wonder why she’s so happy and he’s so sad. And then the mind flows into twenty different directions and the stories keep escalating until the smooth announcer voice comes on and tells everyone they’ve arrived at their destination….as if anyone had a doubt that they would. Oh, if life were as easy as taking the train.
At night, once the stress of the day gets washed away by being yet another passenger on a train, there’s home responsibilities afoot. But walking the dog has never been the chore, and continues to calm that silly little head of hers. The autonomy of the wind squelches any inkling of loneliness she might have felt for the night. For even though responsibilities still awaited her in her inbox called life, for at least 15 minutes, she was free to do as she please, walk where she pleased, because, even though the furry King lead the way, the autonomy of the night drifted into her soul and awoken that part that cherishes these moments….these stupid little idiotic moments of life where you can breathe and just be. No pretense, no agenda, just a moment to be.
And she knew the future held much more of these moments for her, so long as she didn’t run herself into the ground. Which she wouldn’t….because she was too busy staring at the sky while texting.
