Diary entry
I can no longer remember when I last travelled by train. Sitting by the window, on the door side, feels like something I did decades ago. As the train began to pull out of the station. I watched a woman in a long dress of youthful colours walking past hand in hand with her friend.
As they disappeared, I was transported back to another platform, when I first met Ana.
She was checking the display board, looking anxious and not noticing the person beside her. In a hurry, she bumped into me and ran off with a half-embarrassed, half-angry “Sorry!”
As fate would have it, I found her sitting in the seat next to me.
She smiled.
That little smile stayed with me. Soon, we were finding excuses to meet, taking trains together and talking about everything and nothing. We grew close.
It was as if our souls could recognise each other from a distance. How else could I explain sensing Ana’s presence before catching a glimpse of her, even in a crowd?
“How do you always know?” she once asked.
“I suppose I know you.”
“That is not an answer, Ron.”
“It is the only one I have.”
As the train gathered speed, ponds, trees and green fields slipped past the window. In rhythm with the moving landscape, memories of happy, funny and sad moments returned, accompanied by an orchestra playing somewhere inside my mind. Rainy afternoons, shared cups of tea, promises made.
The memories blurred into one another, and I fell asleep. The dream took over where memory left off.
Ana sat beside me, just as she used to.
“You took your time,” I said.
She rested her head on my shoulder. Outside, the landscape shifted to a river I did not recognise.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Does it matter?” she whispered.
I reached for her hand, but struck the metal of the train. She faded with the melody.
I woke and checked my watch, then realised I had been smiling to myself.
Embarrassed, I turned towards the window. For the first time in years, I felt that old, familiar presence of hers.
I caught the faint impression of a face in the reflection.
Was it her?
I felt the sweat gather as I turned around.
As they disappeared, I was transported back to another platform, when I first met Ana.
She was checking the display board, looking anxious and not noticing the person beside her. In a hurry, she bumped into me and ran off with a half-embarrassed, half-angry “Sorry!”
As fate would have it, I found her sitting in the seat next to me.
She smiled.
That little smile stayed with me. Soon, we were finding excuses to meet, taking trains together and talking about everything and nothing. We grew close.
It was as if our souls could recognise each other from a distance. How else could I explain sensing Ana’s presence before catching a glimpse of her, even in a crowd?
“How do you always know?” she once asked.
“I suppose I know you.”
“That is not an answer, Ron.”
“It is the only one I have.”
As the train gathered speed, ponds, trees and green fields slipped past the window. In rhythm with the moving landscape, memories of happy, funny and sad moments returned, accompanied by an orchestra playing somewhere inside my mind. Rainy afternoons, shared cups of tea, promises made.
The memories blurred into one another, and I fell asleep. The dream took over where memory left off.
Ana sat beside me, just as she used to.
“You took your time,” I said.
She rested her head on my shoulder. Outside, the landscape shifted to a river I did not recognise.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Does it matter?” she whispered.
I reached for her hand, but struck the metal of the train. She faded with the melody.
I woke and checked my watch, then realised I had been smiling to myself.
Embarrassed, I turned towards the window. For the first time in years, I felt that old, familiar presence of hers.
I caught the faint impression of a face in the reflection.
Was it her?
I felt the sweat gather as I turned around.
Written to the Prompt by Rommy: Friday Writings #250: Memories and Dreams
