Life · Notestoself · Strong black woman · Uncategorized

The train rides

Just the other day, as l stepped onto the train. I thought about how familiar the scene was. Everything seemed to be on repeat mode. To a point where I felt like am reliving the same day just in another outfit and hairstyle.

My train rides.

They all seem to have the same pattern. I dash out from the bus only to reach the platform breathless. Just in time to hear the announcer say the train is pulling in, careful on the platform. I always skillfully insert myself to the right hand side of the door, to be the first to enter. It always seems to work. Now that I think of it, I usually occupy this position 80% of the time.

Inside, I always head for the two-seater on the left hand side, immediately behind the door or immediately behind the drivers cabin. Always. When those seats are taken, a solemn melancholy feels my heart and I feel like my day has been kicked out of rhythm.

The train rides.

The thoughts, the smells, the  sights, the people, the stops and the speed, all are usually the same. No wonder they have become a ritual for me. The air of familiarity gives me inner peace and comfort. Living in a constant state of flux has made me come to appreciate that one hour train ride to Uni. Many at times l long for my train ride if for some reason or another I have not embarked on it.

My train rides.

In that one hour, my mind is ablaze. I encounter fear, remorse, pride, anger, ambition, love and above all determination. It’s all like a ritual now. It begins by taking out my notebook, ticking off the previous day tasks, then checking todays to do list. Making adjustments and amendments. For some reason or another, I always bite on much than I can chew. That done the assessment games begin. In those few minutes my whole life is like that train journey, and always l ask myself, am l still on the right track? Many at times this question brings me to the current obstacle or problem am facing. Be it friends, family, finances, my grades etc. All topics for another day.

My detox ride.

Remarkably enough, I always shed a tear. Having evaluated and come up with the amended plan. I always cry. Be it out of fear, anger, sadness, pride, happiness, accomplishment etc. I cry it out, say a silent prayer and brace myself for the day ahead. And always when my train pulls up to my station, which is by the way the last one. I always feel recouped. I always put on my purple lipstick, walk out with a smile on my face and with my head held high, ready to take on the world.

So next time you see me on the train, if you have nothing but gossip to offer, kindly leave me to my train ride.

9 thoughts on “The train rides

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