58 Hours of Rail

By way of Amtrak we journeyed slowly but surely from Sacramento to Chicago. We departed Monday morning July 21st at the scheduled time of 11:09 am. From that moment on, one could feel that the words “on time” would elude us in the least and never be heard again at best. I recall being informed by the engineer on one occasion that he 'guaranteed' that we would ‘not be on time’. So with this guarantee, one could conclude that any ideas of a timely arrival would be pure fantasy. In the real world, he lived up to his guarantee, because we arrived in Chicago from Sacramento, Ca. some 6.5 hours late. Not a worry, not a care. We were prepared for a slowwww ride and great scenery. The engineer stated that the stormy rain caused some delay; but we simply wanted to safely reach our destination. On another occasion, especially in Denver, we waited our turn to back into the station. Again, we didn’t care, because we were seated together enjoying each others' company. We were talking and eating, sleeping and reading, during puzzles together, and enjoying the beautiful landscape created and designed by God himself. The mountain peaks, the cloud formations, and the rushing Colorado River were breath-taking; and there we were, absorbing every God given moment of His handiwork. What matters most is that on this train journey of 2438 miles of rail, we spent 58 hours together on a train. It’s not that the world is moving too fast for us, nor are we sitting idly by as the high tech and cyber space world of cells and digits pass us by. Although for a while we did not know when we would be back again, we knew that everyone does not have to be ‘leaving on a jet plane’. It’s not that I want to be Rip Van Winkle. It’s just that sometimes I might like to take a stroll through the mountains and fall asleep, though not for 20 years. All my relatives arrived and departed in automobiles. For the most part, we enjoyed slowww moving Amtrak and being together ‘58 hours of rail’. We also enjoyed our return trip on a ‘fast moving plane’. Our travel mode might not be the American dream; The people and events of this story are real; it wasn’t a fantasy, nor did it reach the level of a nightmare; but it is part of the American way. 08072014PS, Haibun Poetry Contest, Cecelia Hopkin-Drewer