Friday, May 15, 2009

The Train Ride

The train snakes through a tunnel and over a hill, passing vast countryside after countryside. Various scenes and diverse settings whizz by. A huge expanse of the tallest trees but this is no jungle. A sheep farm with a small flock feeding. No sheep dog or shepherd in sight. Another empty land except for a lone pony grazing in the afternoon sun. More trees as if the tracks had been deliberately constructed through these woods. How old were these railway tracks anyway? Older than the trees no doubt. Some of the tree branches distorted and ugly like the deformed arthritic fingers of an old maid. Their leaves so alive and green in contrast, as if freshly painted by the hand of God. A farmer out on an old tractor in a wheat field overgrown with tall grass-like stalks. Nearby lies a small settlement, a town of sorts, with a pet shop sign and a public library; Randolph-Macon college sitting majestically in neat and tidy grounds. High above, clouds float by; light and white and free. A trail disappears into the thickness of trees. The train bumps along an uneven portion of railroad, riding well beyond the green surroundings reflecting a golden hue from the warm sunlight. Earth rises above the tracks as a hill of dirt, the train seeming to be in a valley for a moment. Houses are dotted about the scene, and the skyline becomes visible once more. Tell-tale signs of man's intrusion exist in the graffiti on a wall arch erected for some unknown purpose. Another trail. Another settlement. Thoughts drift to what might lie on the other side of the clearing. A sand quarry comes into view and the next plot houses stacks of hundreds of wooden crates and aluminum-coloured sacks. What sort of creatures lived here? Intriguing. Snakes, wild rabbits, possums and skunks, maybe ... This was the eastern part of the country and progressing northward, memories of history book descriptions surfaced. How harrowing were such journeys in the 1880s - fear of robbers and the unknown in spite of exuberant excitement of hopes, and dreams of a clean slate and a new life. Yes, a feeling familiar begins to well up inside. Life has been a distressing journey in recent times. A journey nonphysical, yet the fears and risks have been all too real. Reverie of life in the 1880s strikes a chord, evoking a gut-deep sense of hope. Personal dreams vividly emerge, one after another. A clean slate and a new life ... yes, life is a risky yet necessary journey. Years of lethargy melt away, leaving, at last, exuberance and excitement bubbling forth from a fountain within the soul ... a well-spring of life energy restored.

5 comments:

Lilly said...

Lilly, you are a very good writer. And you seem to leave your best lines to last. I loved this, "Years of lethargy melt away, leaving, at last, exuberance and excitement bubbling forth from a fountain within the soul ... a well-spring of life energy restored."

Have a great weekend. Are you thinking about doing writing moreso?

Rogue said...

Oh wow Lilly! This is yummy! You paint a gorgeous picture here. The great master, Monet would have had a field day in such surroundings! I can almost smell the diesel fuel and grease from the train engine mingling with the heady scent of rural pastures. Klickety clac,, klickety clac,,klickety clac,,, the train rolls on, bringing you closer, ever closer. Don't you wish you you could hold one instant in time forever? Excellent Lilly!

IJ said...

Oh wow Rogue,
You are brilliant! Absolutely brilliant ... your words, your rhythm, all so in sync with what I was feeling. I wish I might reach your level someday- you are an awesome writer! Thank you for writing, and yes, to "hold one instant in time forever" is one reason that I appreciate photography- another area I want to develop and master.

IJ said...

Dear Lilly,
What can I say, but you bring out the best in my writing - smile. And I would like to eventually take a formal writing course, perhaps follow in my sister's footsteps :)

Rogue said...

You are far too kind Lily. My level? I always strive to do my best, but there are so many truly great writers out there; I pale in comparison. But thank you.