The Last Train Home

It’s catching the last train home to Santa Fe and meeting air plane flight attendant Carlisle at the train station in Albuquerque. Us bonding when getting nervous about electives regarding trains, platforms, and their departures. Then it is the settling in at the same table, the same train booth. Me with blood orange rooibos tea, and Carl with a salad from Panera that actually looked nice, considering. But it was also mutually enjoying conversations on travels, jazz, and jazz clubs, followed by tips on hidden gems full of smoked scotch and tobacco marinated walls all the way from Prague and the Czech Republic to Silver City, New Mexico, USA. And it’s also talking personal transitions and life changes, priorities and treading water until we can find land again, or a town with proper sustenance. Sharing dreams of travel, thoughts on behaviors and if they could be altered in order to lessen our exposure to violent crimes if traveling to such areas. To want to climb peaks but at the same time, become submerged into spring water in all places of the world. To find solace in the letting go of control or expectations while releasing our past lives on the dance floor. To pave way for a new future…