Hard Times Train WC 297

Hard Times Train

The train moved through the foggy night toward Cincinnati. 'Clickety-clack', 'clickety-clack'. I stared out the window into nothingness.

The guy next to me was sawing logs. I wanted to pinch his nostrils so bad… I closed my eyes instead, hoping to drift off. I had a traumatic two days ahead of me.

“Hey, Jocko, was I snorin’?”

Was the voice in my dream?

The stranger punched my arm, jarring me awake.

“I asked ya if I was snorin’.”

“Yes, a bit,” I said groggily.

I looked out the window. The fog had dissipated. Morning had arrived while I was sleeping. The greenq countryside reminded me of home.

“Where ya from, Jocko?”

“Originally?”

“Yeah.”

“Tennessee. How about you?”

“From behind bars.”

I didn’t know what to say so I stayed silent.

“Most people say somethin’.”

“I guess I’m not most people.”

“I was born in a women’s prison in Arizona. Then adopted out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. God took me down a better road than I wudda been on.”

“I’m happy for you,” I said, then closed my eyes, hoping he would take the hint.

“What puts you on this train, Mr. Wisearse?”

“My mother died and I’m on my way to say goodbye.”

“How can you say goodbye if she’s dead?”

This guy was a real pain in the…everywhere.

“You know what I meant.”

“Hope ya had good things to say to her while she was alive.”

We had been estranged for years.

“Not really.”

“Sorry to say, Jocko, that’s gonna haunt ya,” he said, then turned away and closed his eyes. “Hard times ahead.”

I thought about what he said as I listened to his log-sawing.

He was right; I was on that train heading for some hard times.