Just about twilight
I live right next to the London Underground tube/traintrack. My window faces the tracks, which means I see the trains everyday from the beginning of service till they go towards their garages. My mom hates it actually. I on the other hand find it intriguing.
I guess there is a voyeuristic element to it. Here I am, everyday looking into the world of everyone who begins their day. Who are they? Why do they start their day so early? Where are they headed? Why do they go home so late? What life are they leaving? What life are they going to?
Here from my tower, I see these people, see the faces of strangers, who for a moment have to start their day with me. Here I stay, wondering what becomes of them during the day,wondering what they are looking for this day. Than I wonder, if they have found what they are looking for. Finally as the day ends, they hang their heads, as they pass by. Tomorrow they search anew.
Maybe I envy them. Sometimes I feel as this has always been my place. Here I am beside the railway, waving and cheering friends and family on. Praying they are safe on their journey. Hoping they find what they look for. Wondering if I’ll be remembered.
There is that selfish part in us all that wants us to mean more to others. Who, after all, would want to be a footnote in someone’s life. Being referred to as " the nameless individual who was present at said time, but is unimportant to be kept on record, " is not exactly the stuff of legend. In the lives of people, we want to be spoken of in volumes. Most of us barely make a sentence.
The last train is coming in. Someone’s day has come to an end. I wonder if I was part of their day? Was one of them a stranger who I showed a moment of kindness? Or someone who I offended in passing?
What part of their lives will I play part of? Or am I merely just another face looking out the window, watching the trains go by?
