| Waiting As I lay in my bed tonight, a cool breeze blows in through the open window. The temperature is wonderful, perfect sleeping weather. My children are asleep, as I checked them less than 10 minutes ago. My house work is done, my car is in the garage, nothing is out of place. But something is wrong. Something is missing. It is almost as if I am holding my breath, waiting for something to happen. Some unknown force has me caught in its grasp, holding my attention, forcing me to lie here, very still, anticipating, waiting, wondering what it is that will happen. Anxious about something, yet unable to figure out what. Seconds slip by into minutes, 10, 20, 30... and on into hours, and still I wait. Waiting for that unknown something to occur. My nerves are on edge, my mind alert, sharp, ready for whatever it is. I know it isn't something bad, nor something I should be frightened of, just something that is missing. The night is getting cooler, and the breeze is picking up outside, and yet I don't want to close the window. The window seems to be connected to the missing something. If I close the window, it will never happen. I think carefully. Did it happen last night?? I think it did, but I don't know what it was. I just remember a feeling that it was ok to shut the window. So what was different tonight? What had changed. Why was I laying here in anticipation of something, waiting anxiously. I hear a semi-truck slow down and stop across the street from my house. The owner often pulled in late at night leaving the truck running, sometimes for hours and tonight it appears that this will be the case. I immediately cursed the truck and got up to close the window. I was shocked! The waiting was over. I was now ready to warm up my room and fall asleep. Had I been waiting for the truck? No, not the truck. The appearance of the truck was an annoyance, not the comfort I was waiting for. Why did the truck end the waiting? As I started to doze off, the answer gently drifted into my mind. I was waiting to hear whistles from the train as it ran through town. Those two long whistles, followed by the two short ones were often the signal for me to shut out my light and go to sleep. They always bring to mind a short story I read. The author wrote about listening to the train whistles at night when she was 14, wondering what they were telling her, wondering where they might take her, and where her life might lead. Those late night sounds fed her mind with the fuel to see into the future, to understand the goals she wanted for life, to see what she wanted herself to become. During those nights, staring out the window into the darkness, her soul was filled with self-confidence, determination, and a bit of fear. Tonight, where were the whistles for me? That lonely sound of the train running through town, warning the traffic that it was coming round the corner. Those whistles that now fed my mind, reminding me of memories of the past and showing me the visions of the future that I wanted to see. Helping me to build my dreams of where my life was going to take me, what I would become in 5 or 10 years. Where were those whistles that should have sounded hours ago? Without these sounds tonight, my evening was not complete. The emptiness I live with was growing in the silent darkness. Growing and filling my mind with a helpless, yet healthy sadness. I was sad that I was alone, like those whistles normally were. Hearing them in the darkness each night often made me realize I wasn't really alone, that hundreds of other people hear those same whistles each night at the same time I do. Even though I had no one to hold and love, my life would change, move forward, just like the train. On to a new crossing, a new town, to sound again and again through the night. The sounds echoing alone at each town, yet being heard by many. Feeding each listener with their dreams, with their hopes, with their futures. Today, somebody driving a truck full of scrap metal across town had raced a train to a crossing and lost. Thankfully, no one was hurt in the accident, but the tracks were torn up a bit when the train derailed. I now wondered how many people like me were lying in bed, waiting, wondering where their faithful night companion was. Tonight, the missing sounds echo in the hollow emptiness of my soul, reminding me that nothing is ever guaranteed in this life. And that no matter how faithful I am, waiting for that train tonight, it know isn't coming. Someday the sounds may return. A new train on new tracks bringing with it the memories of the past along with the visions of the future. But for now, the night is silent. |