two hundred. twenty three.

Life is a branch & it is a dove // handcrafted by confusing love

Where have I been?
Not here, clearly.
I've been on some trains recently, that's something. I make little notes of things to remember to tell you later, but I've been doing a bad job of it recently.
But on the train I wrote a few things down.
Nothing very interesting, but for some reason I find everything interesting on trains.
Ok, I pretty much find everything interesting ever.
Except March Madness.

On the train there is a man sipping something from a Two Brothers bottle. "I love Two Brothers!" I want to lean forward and whisper, but don't.
In front of him a young man hangs his head in slumber, hands clasped as if in prayer. I notice how clean his nails are. Peeking out the back of his rabbit fur cap is a single shy curl.
The woman in front of him plays solitaire on her ipad. I cannot see her face but her hands old, and she's a wizard at solitaire.
They all sit close to the windows on the bottom level, and it gives the welcoming appearance that they might be alright if you sat next to them. But see what happens when you do, how they shift uncomfortably in their seat and subtly let you know what an inconvenience your presence is.
I sit up top in the single seat, so that I can see farther out the windows when I'm pretending to read but really just watching people.
I sit in the single seat so that no one can mistake me for being friendly, even though I consider myself pretty friendly, or at least terribly curious which usually amounts to the same thing. But when I first started taking trains by myself when I was younger my Dad would make sure I sat in the single seat so he didn't have to worry about stranger danger. It's one of those funny things that stuck and now I habitually sit there without even thinking twice.

Perhaps I make it too grand, this life of mine.
This nonsense over strangers in trains.
Catching my breath over bridges and in cities and under stars.
I get teary-eyed at dumb things, like the cook next door giving me one of his stale donuts as we talk about traveling.
And the baby-faced college student customer who suggests a C.S. Lewis book club.
And the older woman who brings me a neck pillow for my plane ride to Ireland.
Certain songs and the starkness of this land right now stop me constantly.
Quite grateful. It makes moments of fear and doubt that much less significant, such simple blessings as reminders to not be afraid.
Tarry a little longer, friends. These moments are not to be missed.