Derailing Trains

I stood there steadfast and true on the railroad tracks of life. We met face to face two trains about to collide. She could have mowed, plowed or ran me over but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter, I had nothing to lose. I stood there with determination. Her train was barreling through life. She was never prepared for what lay ahead. When we meet this time she derailed instantly. She had no idea how to pick up the pieces let alone put them together. At that point I realized I was no longer a mere mortal. I had stopped a train. I felt alive for the first time in my life.

“Do you hate me?” She staggered and stammered through the conversation.

I had been grinning since our eyes meet, “No.”

She made excuses for her actions, things that should have been left unsaid. The excuses didn’t matter to me, the past didn’t matter. I hoped for a better future but her body language told me there was someone else. Her conversation stumbled. She couldn’t look at me for very long before looking away. I stood there relaxed yet poised, ever smiling. She knew how I felt and I could now know how she felt. I hadn’t known before this moment. It had previously been left unfinished. I needed closure. I needed to know for sure that there was nothing else I could do. I had made it very clear how I felt.

“I’m surprised you’re here.”

“I wanted to come.”

She directed the conversation. I felt no responsibility in that. I was holding out my heart and she knew that. The words that I spoke meant nothing. I was speaking a different language. I was hoping that she would respond in kind but didn’t.

“Who are you here with?”

“Some friends,” I described their relationships to me. Who I was with didn’t matter. Would she join us later that evening? That is what I wanted to know.

“Are you going to be here for awhile?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll stop by your table in a little while.”

The ball was in her court and it was her choice if she wanted to hit it back. I was proud of myself as I turned and walked away. The stone had been scribed. The connection that was there the last time we meet wasn’t there. She struggled to make the connection and fell short. My bridge had crossed the river and she failed to even swim half way. She was scrambling to try and cross the bridge but the road blocks had been already put into place. Before she knew it the river had gotten wider and the bridge that I had built no longer reached the other side. Her bridge was destroyed before it was ever created. She looked across the river wondering if she had made a mistake. The thought quickly passed. On with her life she went and never thought twice.