The last few months trains have been running again in our town, so in the middle of the night, when all is quiet and asleep, we get to hear the lovely , old-fashioned whistle. It wakes me up most nights, but I love it. It’s such a safe, wonderful sound in the night.
Where’s the train going? What is it carrying? How many people are on there, and what are they doing? Does the conductor wear a cap? Is he drinking coffee, looking at the landscape rushing by?
I turn over in bed, tuck the covers back all around me and smile. I love to be alive.


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