I’d stand on the edge of the platform, waiting for the next train to come, and when it did, I’d hold the line for a few heartbeats, because I wouldn’t go in if you weren’t there. I’d scan the crowd and look at the faces, and if I didn’t see yours then I’d step aside and wait again for the next train.
It was vicious cycle — never-ending. But my heart was steadfast — never bending.
“I will wait for the next train,” I’d say to myself. “I will wait for you.”
But time was passing and people were moving. I stood there on the edge, unmoving against the ebb and flow of the tides, never minding and never caring that I was disrupting the smooth and steady flow of the stream of life. How many trains have passed, I wondered, and how many more would pass, before I see you standing behind the open doors? People came and people went, and I remained unmoved.
“My will and my heart are stronger than the tides,” I said to myself. “I will wait for you.”
But the trains kept passing and the tides kept flowing and you never came. I kept standing in spite of the ache in my legs and the pain in my heart. There were good trains and there were bad trains and I started to wonder if this was the kind of life I’d want for myself — always waiting, never moving. Never living the kind of life I’d always wanted to have: A life of adventure, of mysteries, of epic battles and grand victories.
I wanted adventure. I wanted freedom. I wanted life. I’d already hopped from one station to another, and in my journey I’d already become wiser, bolder, braver. I wanted more of those, wanted more of life, wanted more of the world which was mine for the taking from the very start.
But somehow I forgot that when I began to wait for you.
Another train had passed, but I didn’t look at the doors. I didn’t look at the faces, didn’t even mind the crowd as they pushed, as they shoved, as they heaved.
In my mind, the entire station had become still, and then a voice, loud and clear, said, “Enough.”
It was mine.
Enough of waiting. Enough of letting trains pass by. Enough of letting people and places and faces pass by. Enough of missing grand adventures and epic victories. Enough of waiting for you.
I wasn’t being cruel, wasn’t being weak. I didn’t love or want you any less.
But I love myself more, you see. I love myself enough to know that I was being cruel to myself by missing out on many things, because I was waiting for you, when all along I knew that you were also waiting for someone’s train to arrive.
And when I accepted that, when I remembered to be kind to myself, when I remembered my grand dreams and my greater visions, I knew what I had to do.
The next train came and the doors opened. I didn’t look at the faces, didn’t scan the crowd.
I stepped out of the platform and into the train, heart steady, mind clear, soul still strong, ready to take on the next big adventure that I knew I deserved.
Life is one big adventure. All you had to do is step into the train.
Who knows. Maybe one day, I’d step out of the station and maybe, just maybe, you’d be there at the edge of the platform, waiting for me.
Or maybe not.
Either way, I’m off to my next big adventure. With or without you.
Trains and Stations
Project: Beautiful Words
Featured photo (c) Wylderice via pixabay.com