Trains and Memories
The only train from Cincinnati to New York is scheduled to leave Cincy at 3:27 a.m. Yes, a.m. It is my habit to take the Cardinal, as it is called, whenever I go to the Apple. I really do enjoy the train experience even though it is an 18 hour journey. Of course, I could travel by air if it wasn’t such a hassle. I expect any day now to learn that a strip-search is required to board a plane and even should you get to JFK or Newark airports there is always the problem of getting into the heart of the city where I like to stay. Pennsylvania Station is at 33rd Street. I’ll take the train, thanks. I always get a sleeper compartment for privacy and comfort when I travel. The name of the compartment is a euphemism. Sleep is hard to come by on this milk-route which passes through the mountains of West Virginia and up the Eastern Seaboard.
As I waited to board the Cardinal, which, typically, was almost an hour late, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a semi-young man in the line. Something about him seemed so familiar I wondered if, perhaps, I knew him. Decidedly, I didn’t. The square cut of his jaw and the timber of his voice as he spoke to the porter gave me pause. I realized, with a jolt, that he reminded me of my first love, Chris, who had died tragically in his sleep so many years ago. I was mesmerized by the similarities between the two. It was uncanny.
During the time period when lunch was being served in the dining car I watched, like some lurking stalker, to see when this man might take his meal. I so longed to hear him speak and to look into his eyes, to watch how he carried himself. I entered the dining car and seated myself at a table where I could look directly into his face. I was enthralled. He was SO like Chris. What a treat it was for me to once again feast on the traits of a man I expected to spend my life with. His eyes, especially, held that light that always touched my heart whenever I gazed into Chris’s face. Was I imagining all of this? Oh, I suppose a case could be made for my wanting him to remind me of my happiest time but certainly it was not all wishful thinking. I tried to be as objective as I could as I studied this stranger. Yes, Chris was in there. Most assuredly.
At the dinner service that evening, just before we entered New York, I decided to have my meal in my compartment. I could imagine myself entering the dining car, rushing over to this bewildered man and snatching him up in an embrace, making a compete fool of myself, resulting in a police escort off the train in Penn Station. I could see the headlines in the Times…well…probably the Daily News: DERANGED WOMAN ATTACKS AMTRAK PASSENGER…Film at 11. Eating dinner in my compartment was not a bad idea, I think. Then, too, there is a fine line between nostalgia and pain.
My stalkee was met at the station by an attractive woman with whom he was so obviously in love. I couldn’t help but be a little jealous. In another time and place, it could have been Chris and me. I’m grateful to this man for filling my heart and mind with precious memories and setting me up for a glorious visit to my favorite city. Because of this encounter my stay in New York was enhanced, all of my memories sharpened, for it was here that Chris and I were together. Thank you, dear stranger. I only hope that you are loved as much as Chris is.
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