I traced my finger along the edge
of my train window, trying to focus on the glass instead of what it separated me
from. I had only one fellow passenger that
night, and the man who paced our train car had no one else to look at. His gaze felt heavy on me though, and I dropped my
eyes to the chipped paint on my fingernails.
The trees outside my window were
mostly birches, small and leafless in the winter. Their trunks seemed small as the train passed
them – too small to bear the burden of winter.
The pacing man flung himself into
the seat across the aisle from me when he heard approaching footsteps. Just in time; a second later a man walked
through the doors. His uniform spoke of
authority. He glanced at us briefly, but
hurried on his way.
The door closed behind the man in
uniform, leaving us in silence until the man across from me laughed. He laughed the kind of laugh a regretful man would,
if he were just told that he was dying of cancer.
“You know, I really thought you
cared.”
My eyes rose to meet his, but he
was looking out the window – speaking words not meant for me. I continued staring, careless of the fact
that it was impolite.
“I came all this way just hoping…”
he shook his head. “I guess that’s life
though, isn’t it? Just when you’re on
top, someone kicks you off.”
The man shook his head and stared
into the night outside his window.
Tears began falling then, and I let
them come. I cried for what I was
leaving behind, and I cried harder for where I was going.
There is no such thing as home – it
isn’t just one place. Home is anywhere
that you can share everything and still be accepted, home is anywhere that you are
loved. And I had no home.
Going through life without a home
isn’t so bad as long as you don’t have to travel alone. But the seat beside me was cold and empty.
My hand went back to the window and
I traced the smudges with my fingers. I
didn’t want to see outside if I meant I would see all the birches turn to palms
and the winter disappear. As long as you’re
in winter, that’s where I want to be.
But once you’re on the train, windows
are only there to remind you that you can’t go back.
