This way of life sped past me and at the last second, it opened its doors as though it were sticking out its open palm
Like I was waiting on a platform and the Conductor hung on the outside with his brimmed hat and white gloves
As the wind hadn’t quite yet dissipated
the inertia in action
It looked just like an invitation… or maybe it was just a high five
The Conductor didn’t whisper “come along” as I grabbed on.
He just raised an eyebrow.
It wasn’t as clear at that moment.
But I’d met someone else standing on the platform.
And He did.
He held out his hand.
“Shall we?”
And that life felt like my own the second I said yes
Yes, I will come along
Yes, I will get on that plane
Yes, I will learn this language
Yes, I will glue my eyes to this map
The moment I said, yes I’ll fall in love with you
And yes, let’s keep moving
And yes, I’ll walk these streets in awe over and over again
And for the first time in a long time, I felt l had stepped onto a moving train at exactly the right speed
Like the perfect equation of my toes to train floor
Perhaps that’s why I find it hard to be at home
Not home as in a concept
Though maybe I find that a challenge too
But home as in the place
What if that train doesn’t come back this way?
What if the next time it does, it’s going just a little too fast for me to get my grip?
Somehow since I stepped off the train with my bags and souvenirs the decision to ever stay anywhere too long is so much more confusing than to go
And even though the faces waiting on the platform are those of the people one adores, you know the platform isn’t everyday life
And I know when people hear these thoughts, they always think of someone running away
Someone who thinks the grass is always greener
But the truth is, I love that train
The buzz, the noises, the smells
The other passengers and even squeezing your luggage between your knees as it rocks side to side
Apologising when you bump the person next to you
But it is possible to get on a train in the wrong direction too.
A train without seats for you.
One that’s too hot or too fast or an express past your stop.
And I have to remember that.
Not every train is better than no train.
And so I trust
That when our train comes next
We will be ready
With our language and our maps and our vague plan for where to eat and drink and dance and lay our heads
And the conductor will slow as he sees us and say, “ahh, we knew we’d see you again”
And my partner in it all will raise his eyebrow and say those two little words
Maybe my favourites
“Shall we?”