Journey Home

            Telephone poles skirted past the windows, as long silver rail cars rushed across a weathered stretch of train track. Warehouses and empty, decrepit lots passed by on either side of the tracks as the train traveled along the countryside.

            In the upper compartment of the train’s quiet car, a boy named Marcus sat with his head in a handful of books, studying homework, as the train swayed in a strong summer breeze. For all the conversation and activity of the world around him, Marcus remained deep in thought, lost in the words of the books.

            Outside the train, warehouses and empty lots gave way to costal towns and cities. Soon these gave way to suburbs and office space. These too disappeared as the train slowed into the shadow of immense skyscrapers. The clatter of the train dropped steadily, plodding along only slightly, until it reached the seventh platform of the L.A. Union station.

            The sharp hiss was hardly a whisper to Marcus and the rest of the passengers of the train, but it was enough to take him out of his thoughts. Marcus gathered his books as a voice came over the loudspeaker. “Welcome to union station. This is the final stop of train 637. All riders must depart. Please gather any and all of your personal items.”

            As the passengers of train 637 filed out, Marcus packed his bags and checked his seat for loose items. Marcus was infamous among his peers as, “the guy who looses stuff.” So, he was inclined to check and recheck his surroundings, for any object he might have left behind.

            Between double-checking his possessions and loading school supplies into his bag, Marcus managed to be the last person to leave the train. By default this caused him to be at odds with the railway workers.

            Stepping off of train 637, Marcus turned his attention to the hiss and rumble of another train down the tracks. This new train landed in track eight, as Marcus fell in line with the other people moving throughout union station. In a way that is best described as organized chaos, Marcus shuffled through the crowd behind the other departing passengers.

            Marcus felt something squish underneath his feet, and thought for a moment that they changed the floors. Then he felt the object stick to the ground as he walked along. Marcus knew in an instant what he stepped on, and he scowled.

            Stepping to the side of foot traffic, Marcus lifted his shoe and confirmed his apprehension. A soggy wad of white chewing gum rested in the many groves of his shoe soles. He shuddered a moment, let his foot down on the floor, and rejoined the foot traffic.

            The hallways of the station opened up to a grand entrance. Marcus carried on through this room, and stepped from the station to the street, where the busy foot traffic gave way to busy streets of cars and busses rolling along the asphalt.

            Marcus looked around, searching for someone familiar, but he could not find . . . wait . . . there on the far end of the street! A family of six, seven if you include Marcus, waved and smiled. He smiled back and walked faster and faster until all seven members of the family were together, embracing and celebrating the break from school. “We missed you, Marcus,” Marcus’ family cried. “I missed you too,” Mark replied as he and his family stood at the far corner embracing.