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I don’t know about you…but I’m one of those people who is usually in a hurry when I drive. I mean I wouldn’t be driving if I wasn’t’ trying to get somewhere…duh…
So the train crossing that I go through every day on my way to and from school…you know the one with no apparent schedule…the one that sends a train at will…usually when I’m running late…can be quite annoying.
Waiting at the train tracks used to drive me nuts…I’d sit there frantically worrying that I was going to be late for work. And I’d get that rushed energy feeling that just ruins my whole day. Until one day Bertha happened to be riding with me when the steaming locomotive…the one that even an un-superman could be more powerful (and faster) than…came looming by.
As I prepared my entourage of excuses for my upcoming tardiness…(which is ridiculous since my principal is quite aware of the train and has never mentioned what time I show up for work…and I’m usually early…which means with the delay…I’m on time…geez)…Bertha seemed quite excited about the interruption of the morning.
She explained to me that waiting for a train to pass was probably the only time of my day that no one could ask anything of me. No one could demand that I do anything…all I could do was sit and wait for the few minutes that it took for the caboose to arrive.
I hate to say it…but of course she’s right…and from that day I’ve started to appreciate…not look forward to…but appreciate the time that I spend at the tracks. I usually carry a book with me…it’s a great time to meditate…or organize my day in my mind…I could even file my nails or touch up my make-up…or just roll the windows down and enjoy the breeze. I spend way too much time rushing…it’s kind of nice to slow down once in a while.