This is part of a letter that Mary sent me a little less than a week ago, as she was headed from San Diego to LA. Enjoy!
I'm currently on the train, waiting to take off. It's fairly full, and contains a strange array of people. Across the aisle from me is a tall middle-aged man with a big and slightly vague smile on his face, gazing out the window with his face centimeters from the glass, his hands pressed against it, stroking the pane in a never-ending battle to wipe the water marks from the opposite side of the glass. Behind me, a pair of girls munch loudly on sweets, giving their review of each treat loud enough for the whole car to hear, and calling their relatives to tell them that they're on the train, starting to move, and headed out officially. A tall woman in the back is starting to settle down from yelling and cursing Amtrak for making her take all the 'darn' trips, and how she hates trains. And then I look out my window to see rolling green hills and a soft blue sky. Sunlight drifting through the windows, and all is calm. The world is so bizarre and beautiful, joyful and tragic. I am content.