On the Platform Edge
I stood on the platform about a mile from the tracks watching a half dozen or so brave souls teeter near the edge, leaning way over the yellow line in search of headlights. A couple with a child no older than five, who could barely walk played catch with his daddy closer to the edge than I could bring myself to dare. A year the length of a menthol seemed to have passed. I leaned against the station walls when it happened. I had lived through four earthquakes on the West coast that woke me from sleep, but together they did not compare to the rumble beneath my feet at this very moment. There were a few warning clangs on the tracks, what I now know to be the nails on the tracks battening down hatches in preparation for the vibrations with which nothing will ever compare. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard.
I lived a comfortable enough life back in the quiet suburbs of New Jersey just the night before. I slept with my windows open and hadn’t locked a door since I was 13. I left a big apartment, a steady paycheck and a little fluffy dog who never wore a leash. What was I thinking? I am a bonafide Jersey-girl. I lived for Saturdays at the mall and late night Dunkin’ Donuts runs. I like diner food and I love the boss. The size and danger of big city living is just not for me.
I swallowed, but again it wouldn’t go down. My eyes tightened and though I could no longer see, reality still existed. It lived in my ears and my heart and beneath my feet, and the sound… the loud rumbling sound of all my fears coalesced came barreling around the corner and down the tracks. My hair was swept up into my face, but my arms were too frozen to clear the strands. I just stood there, waiting for the noise to stop. But it didn’t stop. It just got louder and the deep rumbling vibrations that tickled my ears suddenly turned into a scream that flooded my eyes. I panicked. I opened my eyes and scanned the station for a way out, but the fear that swept through my body came pouring up from my eyes so suddenly it halted me from seeing anything. So there I stood. Blinded by eyes wet, nails piercing the skin in the palms of my hands and no way out. No way to escape. I was stuck there, just this metal serpent and me. For a moment the screams subsided and the serpent lay quiet before me. Then slickly, he parted his lips and teasingly whispered "go-home." I just stood there frozen, staring through wet eyes. I knew I had to get inside. I need to take the five or so steps that would put me just close enough for him to swallow me up, but my feet disagreed. He called my bluff, whispered once more "go-home," slid his slick silver lips shut again and moved on with his lunch.
I came here because I wanted to see what was out there, see what else life had to offer. But, if this is it, I don’t want it. I’ll do just fine with my underpaid and overworked job back home in the quiet hills of the Garden State. How bad could it be? Home has family dinners, mom’s many I-told-you-so’s, maybe even a mediocre husband and matching kids. I could overlook Luis’ lies and my own, and pretend the words "I love you" mean something.
It soon started again. The clanking of the tracks started slowly, one by one and the rumble came, a little quicker this time. This time I would be ready. I squeezed my hands again almost as hard as I clenched my teeth. Though I tried hard to hold back the tears, they came. They came fast, but I cleared them as fast as they fell. I hadn’t a choice this time. I could get on that damned train or I could run back home to mom. So she can tell me she was right. I wasn’t made for this fast paced get-on get-off train riding. I wasn’t comfortable being packed into a big silver coffin and sent barreling off into the black tar island topped with towering silver spikes ready to stab me in my soft jersey heart. No matter how hard I clicked my Nike heels, still there I stood, the earthquake coming to take me and everything I am. There was nothing could stop it now. My heart paused and my ears rang out in a call for mercy.
And then it stopped.
I can take what’s given to me or I can take what’s mine. I could work nine to five and pray my children will live what I say and not as I live or I can live the life dreamt I would and prove that risks pay off.
I stood there and watched the train pull in and come to a stop at a fork in the road. One side is filled with safe parks, green grass and rolling hills. I could see the end and it looked just like the beginning. Or I could take the other that hid itself behind sliding doors. On rolling hills I could dream forever about what I would have done. But, behind the doors I could do what I’d only have dreamt of forever.
The sun gleamed off of the shiny silver doors and the train bells whispered, "go-home," and I stepped in.