The train pulls into the station slowly as passengers stand and progress toward the doors. We wait patiently, or not so much, either standing stoically or tapping their feet in time to unheard music. The very second the doors slid open, they burst from the train, turning right toward the stairs. The stairs are where everything becomes streamlined, a steady progression of down, down, down, down, but a careful one. Metal bars that were once painted white but now show spots of rust provide access to the street. Turn, turn, turnstile, the people slowly beg. They don't stop moving, not for a single second as they wait their turn to exit.
And then we disperse, a silent collection of lonely individuals on our way to better things.
I walk past the chain link fence that holds the trash and equipment, past the dark alley, past the crumbling building bearing barely used storefronts. I see a nearly homeless looking man with a cane, wearing baggy cottons and a hat limp out to meet a dark Escalade, parked glittering under a street light. The rims on the tires gleam, winking at me. They shake hands, a quick exchange, and then the car pulls away and the man limps toward his companion.
I smile to myself, staring at the school bus ahead of me unloading a soccer team home from a late away game, staring into the tree-lined, dimly lit night and think, I'm going to miss this place.
I arrived home and found a long-awaited piece of mail: Simon's registration tags. I am no longer on the run. However, I have waited longer than two weeks to contest this ticket, so that shall be first on tomorrow's agenda. Oh dear me, let's please fast forward until May 7th. That is when I shall be done (for the most part) with my undergraduate career.
Graduation party will be held at Maddie's house in their backyard area at 11am the morning following my graduation. We will be doing a Costco run to get the necessities and such, so don't expect anything too lovely or wild. But it should be quite communal and pleasant.
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