Grrrrr. buzzz. boop. The wheels of the bike turned inwards and outwards as I gripped the handlebars for support. My hands released now I am at a quiet place; the train tracks. A long row of pastel colored trains line the track, their work having ceased for the day.
Trains. Trains have carried nations on their back. Trains have hauled wood, iron, ore to build our towns and cities. Trains have created so much magnificence in our world.
The train tracks remind me of so many things. So much history is packed between those rails the sweat and blood of so many hard working humans. The pages and pages of fiction and literature. The songs… One of the good ones; John Henry. The tale of John Henry’s Hammer by Johnny Cash. Paul Bunyan comes to mind as well.
Most of all the train tracks are a quiet place for me to reflect on what’s going on in life. A place that provides space to contemplate on sheer reality. To really ponder what all is going on and how I can improve, if even just a little. Which, honestly is where I find myself. Not moving mountains, or anything grand, but just living small. Which in itself is good.
The train tracks show me how much better I can become. they provide a kind of inspiration for my dreams sparked with flames of creativity.