Waiting on a Train

The train was dead still at the crossing and I was 9th in the line of waiting traffic. We sat with engines turned off, driver side windows down, reading newpapers and smoking. A jumble of sound from the competing radio stations filled the morning air, classical mixed with rock, mixed with country, mixed with news. We were patient in our waiting, unlike the handful of drivers who turned around and roared off with expressions of disgust on their faces, leaving trails of exhaust behind them. Hurry up and wait! someone yelled as they pulled away.

There's a lot of waiting to be done in this life and I've discovered a vital truth - patience takes practice. There are times when we just need to "be" and leave the chaos behind. I focused on the train as it sat across the tracks, implacable, calm, waiting, not concerned that it might be late to it's destination. Railroad men walked the tracks unhurriedly, calling to each other and waving signals. The red crossing lights flashed steadily, almost leisurely. In my rearview mirror, a woman was checking her make up. In front of me, I could see the driver on his cell phone, one arm stretched casually across the passenger seat. The train remained motionless and we waited.

There was a house across the street with brown shutters and in serious need of painting and I noticed the front door was the old fashioned kind, heavy wood with visible grain running through it, brass handle still gleaming and stained glass in an arc at the top. I wished for my camera. On the other side of the street there were warehouses and aluminum buildings, a strange contrast. A man walking a German Shepherd came down the street at a brisk pace. He carried a styrofoam coffee cup and would drink quickly each time the dog paused. Looking at the train and the line of traffic, he shook his head and smiled sympathetically. The train didn't move and we waited.

I noticed how blue the sky was, how warm the air was for a January morning, how the clouds were like white cotton balls moving along on puffs of air. Squirrels were chattering in the trees and running along the power lines and a youngish looking black and white cat appeared on the doorsteps of the house with the brown shutters and began to wash it's face. A gang of children rounded the corner with knapsacks and bookbags, laughing, shouting, and roughhousing with each other. And still the train sat idly and we waited.

Just maybe there was a lesson to be learned here about the things we miss if we never slow down or have to wait for a train.