I am once again on the train. It takes about 3.5 hours to transport my fellow passengers and me from Seattle to Portland. I love the train. Cup of tea or wine. My book club book and story writing time. Stare out the window time, daydreaming time. Drool on my blanket time.
On occasion we have a delay. Flooding from the incessant cloud clashing downpours in December caused a 30 minute hold up. Once upon a time 20 years or so ago, it was ice that kept me from getting home on time. Though usually Amtrak gets us in early. Slow and steady. We don't live in Toyko.
I decided to take a later train home after the New Year's festivities were in the rear view. It was the Sleeper train heading to LA. A double-decker with swivel chairs in the dining car and expansive floor to ceiling windows. I secured a coveted seat in the dining car, insuring avoidance of a stinky or loud seat row mate. I settled into my book, The Goldfinch (must read). This carved out time to read and write and sip is absolutely divinely precious to me. I feel so lucky to have this train time.
Thump.
I Knew it. I have felt that thumb bump before. I lived in London for a few months time and a week didn't roll by without the thump on the commute to or from Pinner on the Redline. Screech and the announcement: Body on the Line. Delay. Body On the Line. Oh my word, a real body on the Line. Tracks for us, USA-ers. Some one just died. Ended there life earlier than ordained.
We stopped, 8 miles south of Seattle. After an hour, the voice stated, due to an unfortunate incident, we will have a one to seven hour delay. We have struck and killed a pedestrian.
Body on the tracks.
Sirens, police cars, fire engines, investigators and a new conductor changed the day from that thud on. And on it went.
The snack car server, Joe, shared that the gentleman threw themselves on the tracks, ending his life on purpose. Not one passenger complained of the delay. Well one guy shared a bit dramatically, 'I have an important meeting I am going to miss, and it's a patent meeting.' As if that made it more important. He didn't get a word of too bad for you. The rest of us were stunned into stupor. Unable to drum up enthusiasm for read and write, I sat still for three hours. Time warped and tired, we finally had the go ahead to travel. Three plus more hours, more. I sipped water and stared more. I feel lucky to not have whatever bottomless sadness consuming me enough to jump in front a train to stop the hurt once and for all. That is all I recall thinking during the wait.
Why am I ok? Why am I not hurting so much I can not bear to live? I hurt sometimes and I have traveled though a briar patch of fear and grief and I am ok. I have joy and I love my life and I want to keep living it. It is just too bad we can't bottle our joy like our blood and hand it out to those that need transfusions.
I am grateful today to not be so sad that the line is more bearable than my life.