Train

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We live about two miles south of a train track. On the days that I leave the house, I cross the train tracks both leaving and eturning home, it is a single track, raised a bit above the road. I have only seen Amtrak trains on the tracks. One midday, around 1:15. The track runs between Tampa and Orlando and trains go both north from Tampa up to Savannah and other places yonder and south to Miami. Already I am planning a trip to by train to Savannah, where we have never visited. And I think I would like to take the train to Miami when it comes time to go down there. It is surprising to us afte leaving the Amtrak corridor and that familiar train ride from New Carrollton to New York to be once again near the train.

In addition to that train midday, there is an evening train and an early morning train. It is finally cool enough that we can open the French doors in the bedroom overnight and feel cool fresh air while we sleep. We can also hear the train. Not every night; the rumble of its cars and the slow, plaintive whistle do not wake me from sleep. But if I am awake, perhaps because Tibe has just come up onto the bed and positioned himself right next to me to sleep or because I was wakened by a dream, I hear the train and imagine all of the places it is going. I like the motion and possibilities it’s sounds present, but I am happy to be warm, at home, asleep in my own bed.

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