Off The Train

Seven years ago my husband got off the train.  

Two high speed trains sat momentarily at the station.  Despondent passengers were jostled like cattle from the overcrowded carriages.  The mass crossed the platform and soon filled the coaches of the other train.  Heads down and shuffling forward, no one noticed the man that lifted his head above the others.  He teetered on the threshold and took a tentative look at the station.  He stepped onto the platform and looked up at the sky.  The doors closed on both trains, the unseen drivers pushed the levers and the trains pulled away in unsion.  The man was left standing alone. 

On the third platform stood a steam train.  The man took the stairs to the third platform.  He walked along the train and investigated the carriages.  The carriages looked appealing, sometimes he got in and sat down to test how the steam train felt.  It felt good, he liked it.  He continued his exploration along the train until he reached the engine.  He got in and added fuel to the fire, the locomotive started to move forwards and the man added more fuel.  The train began a new journey along a different track. 

Over the months and years the steam train gained momentum.  Sometimes it can be seen forging along the line not far behind the high speed train.  At these times the man is frantically shovelling in the fuel, the thrusting pistons and belches of grey smoke testament to his labour.  The man remembers to look about him and takes a deep breath.  Time now to release some steam, to moderate the fuel and let the pressure ease.   He remembers to look sideways at the views and up at the sky to watch the white puffs of smoke dissipate into the clean air.  He takes a deep breath and lets the train come to a stop.  Soon he will be off again but for now he is happy to sit.  He looks up ahead at the flicker in the distance, to see the high speed train dissolve into the horizon.