The empty pages of life fall from the sky,
Melting into the ground of my mind.
Lost in a whirlwind of paper and ice, I try to look ahead.
There is a rumble in the ground, a foreshadowing of the train screeching
To a halt before me.
Do I board the train?
Where is its destination?
The passengers lean forward, looking through grubby windows, wondering
What I will do.
One woman tilts her head to the side and raises her eyebrows, her mouth opens as if
To say something, then closes abruptly as she fades back into her seat.
The whistle blows, the time drags on.
Still, I sit motionless, gaping at the open door, willing myself to step through.
A child comes to the door, dressed in short pants and gripping a stuffed rabbit by the tip of the ear,
She looks at me.
Staring back at her, I see my decision mirrored in her eyes.
I will not board the train.
It is not yet time.
The train lets out a sigh as the doors close.
I turn, head back to my seat and watch the water soak into the papers on the ground,
Obscuring their words
A Life Less Blog 