Just a train ride away

Part 10 Endings, reflections and undeniable connections

May 24, 2013 from the Series Northwest Moons created by RuthAnn Anderson

Thank you, dear readers, for being here with me on this exploration of family. If you are a new reader and would like to catch up, you can begin here. And to find the remainder of the posts, just visit my site here.

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This trip has been planned using Amtrak points, which offer the choice of a roomette on only one segment of the trip.

How bad can it be sleeping in a regular seat for just one night, even if it is a holiday weekend?

RuthAnn drops us at the train station midday. I have a reprieve from sorrow knowing she will be stopping to see us in a few weeks on her way down to Southern California to work on her upcoming art project (more on this in a future post.) We empty her orange Subaru of our belongings. I’ve long since lost track, but Rick likely says “Goodbye Ruth” and I instantly add “ANN.”

Unlike the outbound trip waiting in a “special area for the upgraded guests,” instead we are in the main lobby of the handsome Portland Station. We have a few hours until boarding. A homeless man sits down next to me, barefoot, wrapped in a blanket. I am beyond observant, overly sensitive, and as we all know, a very emotional being. I spend the following sixty-plus minutes thinking about his black toenails, his life, and wondering how he has ended up seated next to me in a train station for shelter. I take many yoga breaths for him and me. Close to our departure time he leaves as quietly as he arrived. I send him my respect and positive thoughts for relief, warmth, and comfort.

An hour later, as I gaze out the window at the most beautiful landscapes imaginable. I am unaware of the chaos that will develop after midnight. For instance, I do not know that somewhere around 1:00 a.m., a few passengers behind us will create quite a ruckus, calling each other fowl names; a favorite seems to be “anti-Semitic.” Their voices will rise per their anger. Within minutes, the entire train car will be awake, and passengers from seats in front of the car will become involved, yelling “SHUT THE F___ UP.” 

Well, I sure didn't see this coming.

One of the passengers in the initial dispute will hurl a few last expletives before she declares that she is calling 911 as she strides past us toward the next car. 

All right, good luck on that 911 call. Nighty night.

I also don't anticipate that after I finally fall back asleep, one of the young men from the back, likely one involved in the dispute, who has had, let's assume, too much to drink, will stagger past us, making his way to the bathroom to vomit, but will only make it to the front of our car where he will do his business in the recycle bin. Rick fills me in with updates when I awake.

The young man is good enough to spend 45 minutes cleaning up after himself.

His mother has taught him well.

And I have no clue how uncomfortable these seats will become by 6:00 a.m. tomorrow morning when we stumble off the train sleep-deprived and extremely sore but finally home.

No, I don't have a clue, thank goodness.

Instead, I am incredibly comfortable in my seat, mesmerized by the majesty out my window, only one hour into the ride. How can so many giant trees share one square mile in the Pacific Northwest? Mother Nature is a force. I study the landscape and think of the genealogy this trip has defined.

I consider the small towns that dot the land as our train passes through at speeds of approximately 50 miles an hour. What about these pinpoints on the map drew souls to stop their wagons, set a spell, and ultimately decide to create a homestead?

It only takes a stretch of the imagination to understand their reasons. The land offers grandeur that fills the spirit, expands the breath, and warms the heart, beauty as far as the eye can see.

My father grew up in these parts. He whispers in my ear as I watch the scenery pass me by, 

Thank you, my girl, for making this journey. I'm here with my mom/your grandmother, Augustus, sister Thelma, and so many more you never met, including your grandfather. We've enjoyed every minute of your journey. We can see ourselves in each of you girls, not only with those blue eyes but in your spirits. You've taken our hardships, scars and shortcomings and created the beginnings of a healing for future generations. That red wolf in our family crest bespeaks vulnerability and habitat loss. It also reminds us that red wolves mate for life. We couldn't be prouder of the three of you and your offspring.

I speak little on the way home. I enjoy a few games with Rick, but my thoughts are elsewhere, playing over and over the past week. As the sun sets, I can see the windows from the opposite side of the train car reflected in my window. 

the windows from the other side of the car reflecting in my window

The image takes me to thoughts of parallel lifetimes. How might my life have been different had I the benefit of spending large amounts of time with these blessed loved ones, Sharon, RuthAnn, Margie, Debbie, and Wendy, not to mention their offspring? 

In only one week, they have touched my soul in ways I will never be able to describe, no matter how long I sit to write. 

But maybe they've been here all along in this multiverse scenario. Perhaps our connection mimics that red wolf in our family crest; we've never been too far away to feel one another. 

As I settle comfortably into our bed hours later, with RuthAnn's artwork depicting the Northwest Moon hanging on our wall (a gift from RuthAnn) and my family's spirit nestled deep within, I understand how blessed I am.

There will be more journeys to the Pacific Northwest, sooner rather than later.

Writing this series has been a remarkable experience. I have some thoughts I will share next week. In the meantime, please accept my Namaste for traveling along with me on this personal journey.

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