Moving on
For the past seven and a half years, I’ve been steering my train through life’s ups and downs. Never an easy ride ride, and the tracks lead to everywhere—from cool Sunday afternoons, to dark and cold sleepless nights. Everything that came my way, I knew I could take it all. Whatever the challenge, I felt I had the most important tool for the job. I had one passenger beside me, and she was all I needed. She gave me love and strength, and the power to overcome all trials that rain on me. To put it simply, she was my life.
All these years, my train just went chugging along, reaching both ends of the spectrum of human emotions. And I had her. She was the meaning of my life and I knew it, yet I hardly noticed it. I was living my life, but I didn’t know I was not just living it for myself, but living it more for the most important person in my life.
Then came the crossroad. My train had to stop, then a blur of events. All of a sudden, my only passenger wants to get off. She wants out, and it came like lightning.
To catch another train or steer her own, explanations left unsaid. I never saw it. After all, she was my everything, and I could face all tribulations with her mere presence. With her mere presence.
She stepped down, but I must get back to my ride. Everything lost its meaning, I could hardly start the engine and man the controls. Train wouldn’t move, or maybe I wouldn’t move. I glanced behind my shoulders, and suddenly saw familiar faces on the seats behind me. My mother, my sister, the rest of my family. And old friends. All were in this ride since the beginning, yet I chose to find meaning and strength from only one person. They were all just there, praying for the best, even if I hardly noticed them, if at all.
Now I know, this isn’t just my train, and the journey cannot stop even without her. The world is waiting, and the rest of my life beckons. Once in a while, at some stop or station, I may not help it but pause for a moment and wait for her briefly. Hard as it may be, life goes on.
