A walk on the roof of the train

  “Ugh! Of all the ways to spend my weekend, I picked the sickness ticket,” I mutter in annoyance, holding back a frustrated groan, when I enter the train wagon.

  I look around impatiently, my shoulder aching from the bright red mark that has formed because of my bag’s weight. I exhale, relieved I found an empty window seat near me and take a few long, unsteady strides towards it. The wagon jolts rhythmically while the train begins to move and I lazily drop my duffle bag in the seat next to me.

  I make a silent wish that all my family members lived in a big house in the city so I can visit them all at once and with no transportation of terror and vomit needed. I was about to plug in my headphones in an optimistic attempt to ease my pulsing headache but the first rays of sunlight caressed the window revealing its numerous stains – not all dried.

Thank God I hadn’t rested my head against it yet!

  I think to myself feeling grateful for the sun’s warning. However, my eyes are now trained to those delicate lines of pure light that dance over my skin. They resemble a ballet choreography with their elegant patterns and playful warmth that fades away only to spread through me in their next graceful twirl. Without giving it much thought, I grab the handles and push the window down. The sudden breeze elicits a shiver from me and yet, I extend my left arm out as if to pet it.

  My right one follows.

  Then, my head and upper back.

  I place my foot on the rail of the windowsill.

  With the bravery of a fool, I jump out of my seat and climb up the side of the train, stumbling on its roof. It felt like the limits of my abilities faltered, I push past them and -quite literally- dive into a new reality. The moment I stand up, a swarm of birds I don’t have the time to identify flies over my head with unexpected speed, almost violent. I yelp loudly and fall on the rusty metal surface, covering my head with my frail arms.

  I pant viciously, desperately trying to catch my breath and hesitantly lifting my head to make sure they are gone. Surprisingly, I find them flying in the opposite direction now, following the train’s route. A grin spreads across my lips as I lift myself off the roof once again, my stance wobbly due to the powerful whips of the wind and the earlier fright has my chest heaving with a faint trail of panic and dizziness.

  Not a full minute ticks by and I notice the entrance of a tunnel moving closer and closer to the wagon I’m on. It’s calling out to me, notifying me of its concrete presence, daring me to attempt something no one ever has on a moving train. A child-like laughter erupts from between my lips as I jump over its edge, my feet detaching from the top of the train I was so determined to walk on. I shut my eyes and relax my limbs completely as the feeling of flying engulfs me, the airstreams and birds assisting my adventure like caring companions.

I can fly.

  I am utterly lost in the bliss, my body paralyzed and my clothes wrinkled and torn while I lay down on the roof of the train that emerges. My teeth graze my bottom lip which, apparently, can’t help but form a satisfied smile. The excitement and adrenaline are coursing through my body like the train cuts through the air, slicing it in dizzy winds.

  I sit up, cross-legged and ready to relax and enjoy the trip to my grandparents’ home outside town. Usually, I complain during the entire train ride about the nausea the turns and nagging stops cause me. But sitting on top of it, the buildings and trees look blurry as their colors merge together and I am mesmerized by the view.

Ouch!

  My hair keeps getting on my face since the wind blows against the back of my head, massaging my scalp with its force. I scowl in irritation and reach for my hair tie that’s securely hugging my wrist to tame my angry locks. I lift my arms, gather my hair up…but hesitate. I narrow my eyes and slowly twirl around, facing the other direction. The wind causes my skin to vibrate and a series of lighthearted giggles leave my lips, the hair tie long forgotten stretched over my fingers before I place it back around my wrist.

  The speed of the train, the warm sunrays that come in contrast to the chilly breeze and the loud sounds of the train’s machines force me to lean back against my hands and throw my head back to soak everything in and commit the experience to my indelible memory. I lose track of time as the swirl of moments make the hours feel like minutes. I read a few pages from my book, listen to music, put on the cardigan my grandma knitted for me the last time I saw her and -of course- leap over the tunnels I come across, the birds helping me fly higher each time and I mistake myself for their much bigger, clumsier, distant cousin.

  Soon, I realise the train has only one more stop to make and I decide it is best to climb back inside through the same window to avoid the expected worry and fear of my grandparents who are waiting to pick me up. I am looking forward to seeing them after so long, even though the trip was more eventful than I will ever admit.

  I don’t bother to fix my hair or clothes.

  The twigs, leaves, feathers, tears and wrinkly fabric serve as a reminder of a beautiful, magical adventure I will make sure to relive on my way back home. I shudder as I feel a quiet yet powerful trust in nature’s variety along with the promise that whatever the discomfort, the destination I chose will always be worth it. Once again, I look out of the still open window and, with a knowing smile, close it and lean my head against it, my gaze swirling into daydreams and searching for a new experience.