Keeping my imagination alive, one commute at a time

Every once in a while when I am waiting for the southbound train in the morning the northbound brown line will come through. I stare at the doors as they open, invitingly, and listen to the pre-recorded announcements that it is a "Brown Line to Kimball, Brown Line to Kimball". And every once in awhile I wonder what it would be like to slip through the doors and head in the opposite direction of my life. In reality Kimball is only 3, maybe 4, stops north of my own, but something about those doors sliding open at 7:15 a.m. makes me believe that it is actually a portal into a whole new world. A tempting world of unknown destinations and new surprises. I'm not sure if the desire to head in opposite directions is more strong on Friday's when I'm outfitted in my jeans and sneakers, ready to explore or Monday-Thursday when I am adorned in my pseudo corporate casual clothing feeling like an alien attempting to impersonate a productive member of society.

This morning, Friday, in my jeans and slip on sneakers, the northbound train rolled in as I waited with my coffee. The doors slid open and for a moment that felt like a millennium long second I thought about stepping through. I imagined what it would be like to step through and head the other way, I fantasized about the doors closing and magically being transported on to an Amtrak train out of this city, this state, this time zone. I dreamed of new worlds and landscapes, mountains and salty, ocean air. And just as the imagery was starting to crystallize around the edges, just as it was starting to become a tangible idea that I could grasp and make real, the ding of the doors closing shot through and dissolved the whole thing. As I slowly turned away I could hear the train starting back up again, could hear it heading towards its familiar home of Kimball, just to turn around and head back again in a continuous loop to become someone elses southbound adventure. With it went my dreams of sandy beaches and snow capped mountain vistas. But only for today. For I know that once again, next week, or the one after, I will be standing on my platform waiting for my life to start that day and a northbound train will come with its inviting doors and promises of new things. And maybe if I wait long enough, it really will turn into a train out of this town.