The Last Rider

The sun is beaming in through a crack in the old red velvet drapes. They are glazed with dust and smell of leather-bound books and my grandfather’s cologne. As I begin to flutter my eyes to meet the beam of light, I become in tune with the loud clunking sounds and people talking all around me. “She’s waking up!” I hear the voice of a small child announcing my coming too. As I begin to look around the room, I take notice of the sea of familiar faces that surround me. I can’t quite fully and accurately determine how it is I know all these faces, all these people. For just another few minutes I stay in a dazed state as I gather my thoughts, where am I?

“Wake up!” “Wake up!” The little girl that I had heard just minutes before is shaking me and yelling at me to wake up. “Let her be”, another voice chimes in from the background. As I brave the idea of fully opening my eyes, the curtains fully open and the once small beam of light is now filling up the room in which I lay. I can now clearly see my surroundings. My first and only thought beyond “How do I know these people?”, Is “Why and how did I get on a train?” I quietly search my pockets for any clues, I can't even find train ticket.

So much confusion is setting in. I look around and everyone is staring at me. I see an older woman at the bar, she is serving another lady and they have now both stopped their conversing to stare along with the 5 or 6 other people that are on this train with me. There is a middle aged tired looking lady with an infant and girl that is no more than 10 years old, two ladies with half empty wine glasses and a teen that appears to be traveling alone. I ask quietly, “Does anyone know how I got here?” Everyone continues to stare, and then suddenly the girl who is about 10 speaks up, “It’s ok, you needed a way to get home, so the train is going to take you home.” “The train is taking all of us home.” The mother of the child proceeds to chime in with comfort in her voice, “You had been on a trip and had gotten very lost, the train conductor had promised to take you the rest of the way.” “You were very cold and very tired when you were found, we have all been waiting for you to wake up.”

As tired and confused as I still was, I slowly stood up and made my way to the bar for some water, I could use something stronger but I somehow have no belongings with me, no money. The ladies at the bar talked for hours about life and all their stories. The bartender spoke of all her children who are all grown now, she spoke of the time she cherished with them when they were younger and of the regrets she had for the moments when stress got the best of her. She told stories of huge family gatherings and Holidays you only dream of. Her stories made me feel comfort. I could almost place myself in these stories, as if her stories had once been alive in my dreams. The lady she was speaking with was mid 30’s, she was traveling for work, she seemed very successful but borderline empty comparatively to her level of achievements. She was cultured, well dressed and even more well-spoken. She spoke of books she had written, and businesses owned but didn’t seem fulfilled. She didn’t see herself as successful, the opposite, she seemed to believe she was failing. She made me sad.

More time passed by and getting home seemed like a never-ending journey, I decided to take a walk and see the train. As I waled by the first room, I saw the mother with her baby and the 10-year girl that had been trying to wake me up. The mom was tired but playing along while she bounced the baby on her knee. She had her hair in a messy bun on her head, bags under her eyes, and a stained sweatshirt. I wondered when the last time she slept was. The 10-year-old girl followed me down the hall telling me about her dreams of fame and plans for her future. All I kept thinking was I wish I had the same confidence that kids have. Dreams are encouraged as a child and the older you get, jobs with consistent income are encouraged and dreams are hobbies that get in the way of paying your mortgage. She was bright and lighthearted. I enjoyed her refreshing outlook on life.

As I got closer to the front of the train in hopes to speak with the conductor about the journey and when I could expect to be home, I passed the ladies that held the half empty wine glasses. I tried not to listen in, but I found their conversation entertaining. One had short blonde hair and she appeared to be a fragile individual, soft spoken, not showing many signs of confidence. The lady she sat with had long dark hair, she was bolder, hardened by life maybe. They spoke of realistic expectations for their life at this age. What was doable and what wasn’t. Mistakes made, lessons learned, and what the future holds. They seemed to be good for each other. A balance if you will. As they sipped their wine, they continued to talk things through, and I continued to make my way to the front.

I can finally see the door at the front of the train. All the drapes are open in the front cabin, light is beaming in stronger than the cabins behind me. I start to reflect on my interactions with the other passengers. They are all so familiar to me, but I can’t quite figure out why, all I know is I am glad I met them on my way home. I take another few steps and place my hand on the door handle and proceed to push it open.

“I have been expecting you. “A women’s voice says calmly. I take another step forward as she turns around. Confused, I am stopped in my tracks and before I can say anything I close my eyes, and everything makes sense. I am alone on the train. I am every passenger. I am the train conductor, and I am going home. The train I am on is my past, present, future all in one recap. My life flashing before my own eyes, the bright lights, my next stop is it, the final stop. Heaven.