Train Horn
How I love the train horn. Always have. Ever since I was a wee child, new to this sunny clime, I lived close enough to the tracks to hear the roar. Yes, it's pretty frightening when you're close. Later on, I lived a mere block from the track, and I remember seeing the light slice through the darkness minutes before the locomotive raced past.
Lately, I live a bit farther away but close enough to hear its muted cry as it races through the night. Where has it been? Where is its ultimate destination? What of its cargo? Never big questions for me. I just stop and listen. It's comforting, knowing that the train is there, blowing past my old neighborhood much like I did nearly 20 years ago. Racing, faster, never looking back. I have a entry to write about the old neighborhood, for sure. But right now let me just preface by calling on the old Chessies that rock the night with their vibrotactile dins, their frightening calls. Calls of decades gone by. Business at hand, and thankfully, coming through my neck of the woods for a few minutes. Then, it fades. A little more. Barely audible. Gone. Just like memories.
But the train still comes, and it's comforting. I see my entry has rambled, and I guess you can't understand unless you've been there. Hard to put into words. Watch Jim Jarmusch's MYSTERY TRAIN sometime. Maybe you'll understand. But many won't.........
Lately, I live a bit farther away but close enough to hear its muted cry as it races through the night. Where has it been? Where is its ultimate destination? What of its cargo? Never big questions for me. I just stop and listen. It's comforting, knowing that the train is there, blowing past my old neighborhood much like I did nearly 20 years ago. Racing, faster, never looking back. I have a entry to write about the old neighborhood, for sure. But right now let me just preface by calling on the old Chessies that rock the night with their vibrotactile dins, their frightening calls. Calls of decades gone by. Business at hand, and thankfully, coming through my neck of the woods for a few minutes. Then, it fades. A little more. Barely audible. Gone. Just like memories.
But the train still comes, and it's comforting. I see my entry has rambled, and I guess you can't understand unless you've been there. Hard to put into words. Watch Jim Jarmusch's MYSTERY TRAIN sometime. Maybe you'll understand. But many won't.........
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