Friendships Like a Train

Friendships Like a Train


Some people are like trains in my life, when they enter, they bring action and noise, which is exciting or dreadful, for a time. But then they move on. And all that’s left is quietness. Life just goes back to normal.

From our lofty perch atop a 170-foot feed mill, we quietly watched the headlight from the engine dancing off the trees. With a clatter of wheels, it moved out of sight. The train whistle faded into the silence of the early morning.

The train always had a job to do and a place to go. It might pause for a while, but it knew that life was not stagnant. It had to move on.

I sat on the rails, my hair sticking to my wet, red face. My dress was grimy. A locomotive horn interrupted my pity party, and I stumbled off the tracks, wiping at the mascara smeared across my face. As the train rumbled past, I half-heartedly waved up at the engineer. It was like waving goodbye to a friend.

As the last boxcar rounded the bend, I knew that some friendships were like trains. Sometimes, after a lot of noise and excitement, they move on. But, as the distant whistle faded, I realized something new. I was left with far more than mere quietness; I had memories that colored my life with richness, and these memories become a part of the stories that shaped who I am.

And then, it was time to move on.