September 11, 2007
This morning, as I sat on the couch with my computer in my lap and a cup of hot tea on the floor near my feet, I looked out the window at deer grazing in my backyard. The woods behind my house are still mostly green, although the leaves of the river birches have begun to yellow, and the black-eyed suzies are still in bloom. Mornings are quiet here, with my kids all in school. I could hear birdsong and the wind riffing on the wind chimes that hang above my back step.
From the south, I could hear a train rumbling past on the tracks at the end of my road. The train travels east and then south along a river, stopping in small towns and then continuing on until it reaches Big City Like No Other. When I drive along the traintracks on my way to work, I often admire the colorful graffiti on the trains that come from Big City Like No Other, enjoying the urban artwork that looks a bit out of place in this small town.
Today, as I listened to the trains coming and going, a faint vibration in the distance as I worked, I couldn't help but think of Urban Sophisticate Sister, of a friend who lost her daughter on this day six years ago, and of friends and colleagues and former students who live in the city. As I came home from campus, after a day during which many of us stopped to think, in quiet moments, of the sadness and loss, the trains were still going back and forth, travelling from this small town to the big city on the edge of the world.
Posted by jo(e)