Morning Train

A breeze blows through the Amtrak station doors
Sweet and warm like sun tea, and tulips
Adorn the entrance as though we are celebrating
a wedding rather than a morning trip.

I’m going alone but looking around,
Sitting on a long wooden bench in the waiting area
Seeing the updates
On the screen flash to arrival
Northeast Regional train 164
Departing at 8:30, from track 3.

My sunglasses meet the late May sky,
And my weekend bag is heavy on my back,
My ticket on my phone out for a scan,
As I climb behind families with 50 lb. suitcases
And find a seat in coach.

It is a Friday, and I took the day off work.
It’ll be 9 hours from DC to Boston,
9 relaxing hours of audiobooks and YouTube
And restless legs.

My mind spins with memories- previous trips,
2007, 2022.
Memories of my 20s. Memories of the pandemic.
Long ago memories of when I learned to skate,
Even longer ago memories of when I learned to love skating.
I am on my way to an ice show,
Thinking of a tragedy at DCA,
Wondering about the future.