{"id":31604,"date":"2026-03-04T14:06:44","date_gmt":"2026-03-04T19:06:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/?p=31604"},"modified":"2026-03-04T14:27:23","modified_gmt":"2026-03-04T19:27:23","slug":"strangers-on-the-train","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/strangers-on-the-train\/","title":{"rendered":"Strangers on the Train"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div>\n
Strangers on the Train<\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/div>\n
\n

\"Strangers
\nIn the dimly lit windows of the passing train, I can see the faces of strangers peering out into the night. They are all heading toward different destinations, destinations not so different, really, than my own. Though they and the train are moving quickly through the night, and I stand motionless on a worn wooden platform, I realize we are all moving in the same direction and toward the same destination.<\/span><\/p>\n

In seconds, the train has passed, and the strangers’ faces have faded into the darkness of the night. I watch them disappear into the silence as I climb down the creaking wood and metal stairway that leads from the platform to the sidewalk and the quiet street below.<\/span><\/p>\n

It’s cold, and it starts to snow. At first, just tiny frozen misty droplets colliding with my winter jacket… tick, tick, tick. Then, almost magically, they turn into big beautiful snowflakes wafting silently through the air, dancing down quietly on this frozen winter night.<\/span><\/p>\n

In the silence of the cold, winter air, I watch the whiteness weave a beautiful tapestry upon the ground and covers all it touches. I’m shivering, but still, I don’t hurry; I have nothing else to do. My friends have all passed away — a lifetime’s worth of friends and memories. All that I have left of them are the memories we created — not that we ever had any intention of creating them. <\/span><\/p>\n

Now I take them with me everywhere I go.<\/span><\/p>\n

When I think about it, I realize more and more that the memories you don’t intend to create are the best ones of all. Those simple, maybe the most important and most lasting memories are created in insignificance, like when old friends meet for breakfast or take a walk together on a worn, leaf-covered walking path that winds endlessly under towering railroad trestles and over silent silver streams on some long-lost October day.<\/span><\/p>\n

I can’t go back. I realize I must accept that once they have gone, reliving days with my best friends can only happen with them as memories; my memories are all that keep them alive.<\/span><\/p>\n

If not for my memories, I would be alone.<\/span><\/p>\n

I hear another train in the distance, and in my mind, I can visualize the faces of strangers gazing out at the darkness through the dusty, dim train windows. I don’t know where the strangers are going, but I do know somehow that we all share the same destination.<\/span><\/p>\n

The faces fade into the darkness as the train thunders away through the night. I brush the snowflakes from my jacket as I walk towards my aging, empty house and what is left of my life. As odd as it may seem, it’s been a good night. <\/span><\/p>\n

The faces and the train have disappeared into the night, and I am alone.<\/span><\/p>\n

Home again, I open the door and walk into the silence, and surprisingly, I am oddly stunned by the emptiness.<\/span><\/p>\n

But as the door closes behind me, I realize that even in the lonely silence, the memories of those I loved can still brighten even the darkest and loneliest of nights.<\/span><\/p>\n

All I need to do is remember them.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Strangers on the Train In the dimly lit windows of the passing train, I can see the faces of strangers peering out into the night. They are all heading toward different destinations, destinations not so different, really, than my own. Though they and the train are moving quickly through the night, and I stand motionless on a worn\u2026 Read More »<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":26737,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[228],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/31604"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=31604"}],"version-history":[{"count":13,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/31604\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":31624,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/31604\/revisions\/31624"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/26737"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=31604"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=31604"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=31604"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}