Train Ride

I arrived at the station just in time to catch the last train out of town for the morning. This was my first time aboard a real train. I had been on a train ride once at Disney Land when I was young, but that was a long time ago, and only an amusement park ride. I had woken up fairly early, very early for me, but was still somewhat apprehensive about making it to the train on time. The sky was just turning that early morning gray as I clambered aboard this sleek silvery snake. I hunted around until I finally found what I sought, a seat by the window where I could view the world as it passed by.
I looked around the car, comfortable seats, some with tables, most already occupied by those who came before me: Here was a couple chit-chatting quietly over their morning cups of coffee; others were comfortably lost in slumber. A few had laptops, already starting their day’s work, while others silently looked out their windows and the new day coming, headphones on, listening to either music or stories.
Then we were off, the world rolling by to the tell-tail click-clack of the tracks. So often I had read, even heard on TV or radio this rhythmic song of the train; now I was experiencing it first hand along with the gentle swaying motion of the car.
Outside was a storybook in motion, a world waking to a new day. As we started I saw gardens that looked cold and forgotten, flowers spouting up for any that found her joys. In the distance the just rising sun illuminated the bright and glorious mountains in a blanket of softly glowing gold. Further along we came to a great bay; an island could be seen shrouded in her garment of morning mist. A lonely tugboat waited in the water for what ever load it was to move. Further along were fishing trawlers pulling in their morning catch. A heron sits on the shore looking for his morning catch as well.
On the other side are dirt clay cliffs, trees on the top and bottom, covered in brambles. A trail leads from the top to the tracks, under and out to the beach beyond. We pass houses of the wealthy and not so wealthy too. Soon I see a small town and then it’s gone to the passing of the train.
Finally to the city, where we pass behind warehouses, shops and unidentifiable buildings as well. Some are like new, all polished and clean, most look well used like an old pair of shoes, while others are boarded up derelicts, condemned, waiting to be torn down. Suddenly we are plunged into darkness, traveling under the city rather than through it. The few illuminating lights show of the tunnel show old high concrete walls with various pipes and tubes carrying the lifeblood of the city. It lasts only a few minutes but the darkness seems an eternity. Finally we see light again as we arrive at the station, under the city. I take the long flight of stairs up the noise of cars and the hustle of people starting their day in the city. As I look around at that people, cars and tall buildings, I reminisce about the wonderful journey I had taken and quietly look forward to touring homeward again.