Riverwalk, winter, February 5th 2010
There’s something strangely comforting and soothing about the sound of the trains on the track. Loud, and rough, and monotonous. However, it tugs something within me that I can’t fully understand.
Maybe it’s familiarity, maybe it’s the absence of silence, maybe it’s the promise of change and the moving-forward of things. The traveling caboose. I feel so tiny underneath this bridge, and the rocks are cold underneath me.
Overcast and gray. But still, there’s something special in the air. Something that feels…safe and happy and maybe just a little promising.
Chills. Shrieks of joy. Swooshing and clacks. I’m reminded of thawing rosy noses and happy little frozen fingers.
My memories will never be frozen. They are always bobbing up on the top like a safety ring, there to bring me to the shore when I feel like I’m drowning.
