Why Life is like a Journey on a Train
and the mystery of not knowing at which station we get off
…with its stations
…with changes of routes
…with accidents.
Life is like a journey on a train.
Meeting halfway
The other day, not so long ago, I boarded a clean, polished train from my station in Tokyo's outskirts and headed north. My good friend Hiroko did the same, except that her route sent her south. Strategically chosen, the station where we met was exactly halfway from where the two of us live.
As soon as we spotted each other, we hugged and linked arms at the elbows, and dodging the mobs of commuters, we found our way to a quaint little restaurant that lived two floors under the train tracks. There we spent a couple of hours, giddy and greedily updating each other on things that had transpired in our lives since we’d seen each other last.
When we emerged from our soiree nook nearly two and a half hours later, we felt enlivened, replete and happy, vowing to get together much sooner the next time.
Retracing our steps
Reeling in merriment still, we found ourselves just where we had first linked arms but this time found the crowd somewhat…
