Walking in light of the Subway Car

I stepped off the train and made my way right down the long corridor toward the exit. I passed the conductor, as his head stuck out the window checking to confirm that all limbs were safely inside the cars before shutting the doors and being on his way. My brown boot wedges “click-clacked” on the cold concrete platform, only to become hidden beneath the roaring acceleration of the engine as the train began to propel forward. Looking to my right, I saw my reflection in the passing car windows. My quick walk seemed became eclipsed, and even reversed, as the train raced by me with an unfamiliar quickness. I appeared to be standing still as life was literally flying past me with light-speed.

The pride burns as I swallow it down; a bite too large and difficult to chew. Here I am, slowly creeping (albeit, though it seems to be fleeting all too quickly) towards thirty, with many of my ambitious aspirations from adolescence unfilled, and most of my what-should-have-beens left as what-happened? I feel a cold loneliness in the solitude of this station, as my peers all seem to be darting off into a purposeful adulthood; getting engaged, moving cross county, enjoying honeymoons, having babies, buying homes, and paying off car loans. how did i miss the train?

i walk towards the same dreams and desires and wishful thinking for my own life. i notice less and less are walking around me as more of their visages are flashing by my reflection in that train car window as they speed by on their way to the next station. i would be lying if i said i feared never getting on the train; being forced to walk the distance, with my reflection a comparison to the dreams that have slowly ceased to be.

Yet, I’m still walking. I’m moving, assumedly so in the direction of my dreams, as once suggested by Thoreau.