I had to stare at a school bus with that written in the dust on the back exit door. I had to stare at it for a very, very long time today. Longer than anyone, let alone an editing freak should have to stare at “Stay a Live.”
I had to stare at it because I decided to take a new route home today. Let me amend this by saying I adore this new route. It drives through a little neighborhood that I, for some reason, feel incredibly drawn to. Like if The Hippie and I were to move again tomorrow, that’s where I’d move. If I could afford it. Which I probably can’t. It reminds me of many of the places I’ve called home, regardless of whether I’ve lived there or not. It has the best of nearly every world. Everything close by, quaint mainstreet, gorgeous boulevards and houses, and a train.
There are two things I require of a place in order to feel like home. Airplanes and trains. I grew up within a stones throw of both a train track and an airport, and those sounds are comforting to me.
I do not, however, like getting stuck waiting for a train to go by. Which is where I found myself today, staring at the back of the bus. I should have known better. There always seemed to be a train going over the highway when I went home at 3. But I didn’t even think about the fact that this route would take me over, not under, the tracks.
Don’t get me wrong. I find trains fascinating. But this train was obscenely long. Which is always fun when your gas tank is almost on E, no?