Last Train.

Last Train

Last train for the evening. Standing on the platform. Waiting for the whistle to sound. Cold air spins a drizzle of rain against the bare skin of my face. Shivering. Make-up running. Black eyeliner smeared down both checks. Stockings torn and soaked through. Broken heel. Long day in the city. Missed the early connection. Intermittent Lights breakthrough from between the thin fence. Rush hour bustle moves onward as the night approaches. .

War torn and deconstructed emotionally from the rainy day. Weather never letting up. Bell sounds a warning. Eastbound. Last train delayed for another hour. Quietly I’m watching the crowd across the platform exit the westbound train and out into the gray color of early nightfall. Light sprinkle comes across like a winter hail storm with the winds scattering the drops of water. Liquid conceals the tears that continue to pour down my face.

Thinking about the day’s events is overwhelming. Knowing that after two years of this run-around, I’m tired. Commuter trains twice a week. No closer to a job lead. Not even a receptionist position. Accepting meeting after meeting to network among an industry of powerful women, only to be evaluated by close-minded men, who would rather take you to dinner than offer you a job. Being told ‘you don’t look old enough’, ‘you are too old’ or ‘too attractive/unattractive’ to be taken seriously. Never about the work. Never about your portfolio. Did any of it matter?

Rubbing the tears and black from my eyes as I step forward out onto the open platform, I can visualize the outline of the approaching train. The last train. It’s coming. Watching its slow approach won’t bring it sooner. Maybe it’s time to just step back at let it come. Closing my eyes I re-evaluate the day with the eyes of a new attitude. This disappointment will become unbearable if I continue to only allow these thoughts to persevere.

Slowly, like the rain, the thoughts have diminished. Opening my eyes, the last train is moving closer with a new momentum. It will be here soon. Reaching down I adjust my torn stockings and break off the other heel for comfort. Readjusting my bag, I tie off and seal what’s left of my water-soaked portfolio. With an ounce of grace, I pull my jacket tighter and face the unknown changing wind. Bells ring. Eastbound. Whistle blows. Last departure. Ready to board.  

400. Last Train. This is in part taken from a rainy day years ago… that kicked my a**. I never did tell anyone, but I had to throw away a wet portfolio. This wasn’t my day, but I didn’t give up that night. I went home and put on some music to get lost in. Dance! Anyhow, this felt appropriate tonight. Good luck with it. Maybe a million will sell, maybe they won’t. I hope it does. Can’t predict what will happen in life. Can only hope for the best. m.