Sitting in my leather recliner in the wee small hours of the morning, I hear it. The Lonely Train. Where I live, there are train tracks a few miles to the east and to the west. Because of all the midday traffic noise, most of the time you can’t hear a train passing through town. However, when you’re up before the birds like I usually am, you can clearly hear the whistle blow, and the wheels rolling on the tracks. In the past, this has always been a comforting, small-town kind of sound. One I always loved hearing as I wrote my latest blog post, and enjoyed my morning coffee.
Since I’m one of the few people awake at this hour, I’ve always felt like that sound was just for me. Now, however, hearing that whistle creates a wave of crushing loneliness, that stays with me for the rest of the day. Since losing our beloved hound dog, that lonely feeling in the morning has really started to weigh on me. When Skittles and I used to hear a train whistle, she would raise her head, let out a huge sigh, and then go back to sleep. Now, it’s just me sighing.
Hearing a train at this hour reminds me of the Hank Williams’ song, I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry. However, there’s a certain feeling you get when the rest of the world is still fast asleep. It’s lonely, but special at the same time. I guess it’s all in how you look at it. There goes another whistle now. I try to smile, remembering how much we loved and miss our crazy dog. Then I finish up my latest journal entry and start the day. With a sigh.
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