Is It Written?

I open my eyes with a start. The room is covered in darkness. The constant whir of the ceiling fan combined with the loud whistling snores beside me echo like an orchestra.

I slip out of bed into the naked night. An eerie glow covered the lake below as the moon hung low, as if mocking me. I look away.  A far off whistle echoes from behind the mountains.  It toots its way through windy curves hauntingly.

Another whistle rings in my head and a different landscape spreads before my eyes. I recall a train that had started its chug in another land, in another life, for another man.

The first thing I noticed about him was his hair.  It flew away from his face into a thick black curtain. His cheeks flapped up and down on his long, thin face.  His eyes were determined.  I saw his long arm reach out to the bar by the door. He grabbed it with a strong grip, his legs keeping up with the stride to outrun the train. With one leap he pulled himself up and into the moving carriage.

Just an hour earlier, I had inadvertently pushed him through the door onto the platform.  While trying to maneuver my awkward baggage onto the standing train, my line of site had become limited.  He had almost thrown a few slurs my way, but stopped midsentence. Instead, his long arms had extended to offer help.

Now, in my carriage, I stared at his windblown hair, charred face, and heaving chest. The journey flew as we became friends and in time more.  His dreams carried him to many more journeys, while I watched him get on and off trains from the sidelines.  As I waited, my family could wait no longer.

A knot and few promises and my life was changed.  Moved to a new land in the mountains, far from home and family, I built my nest. My brood flourished, grew and flew to their own nests.  Today, my graying hair colored up to perfection, my body acquiescing to gravity, but holding slim and firm, I declare my life’s been happy.  My life partner a sweet man committed and dedicated to me has never asked but always given.  I feel lucky, yet not all at peace.

It’s always the train whistle, but tonight my mind is even less at peace.  I watch the moon slowly go down and wait for the sun to rise all the way up before heading indoors.  My husband is stirring to wake up and I escape into the bathroom.  After a long, hot shower I start breakfast.  At the table I can’t meet his eyes and we eat in silence. His nose is buried in the local paper, the front of which is covered with news of the avalanche in the ski town nearby.  He reports that two skiers, apparently tourists are buried and feared dead, even though a search party is out looking for them. He rattles off their names.

The teacup in my hand slides from my fingers, spilling milky tea on the tablecloth.  I feel my hands shaking as if my body is feeling withdrawals.  I excuse myself and run to the bathroom where a deluge of tears are released from my swollen eyes.  I recall all the thrill rides, adrenaline rush seeking activities that he was always so fond of.  His risk taking dreams has always been his first love and now he was engulfed in it.  He lived his dream and I had never been part of what he desired.

Nothing had changed for him in life, and now there was no life for him.  I had given life, made a life with another person but clung to another life.   Now I needed to let go.  Live my life.  He had lived his.  I wiped her tears, washed my face and walked back to the kitchen with a smile. I returned to a new life. A life without his shadow.