Window Seat

There are certain things in life that you are never ‘certain’ about... that I am certain of.

...It was a rainy Tuesday when I decided to quit my job. Standing outside of an Ice Cream shop, admiring the vibrant colors of Sherbet, and analyzing the bravery of Rocky Road...

I found myself jealous of people's quick decisions, and intrigued by those that studied their choice of such a simple sweet treat with no concern- in a way that showed what these moments meant to them, fleeting and all.

Catching my reflection in the window and feeling so less complicated than all the swirls and complex treats resting inside...

I wanted so badly to shine as bright as the smiles perpetuated by the simple 'handing over of a cone.'

I don't think my reflection had ever been so simultaneously aware of the amusement in life and what was lacking.

Not terribly far from the shop, I heard the roaring, barreling of a train...

I hadn't ever traveled; never even taken a bus. But there was this internal pull to go towards that sound: take it and let it take me. I washed away what could've been a mixture of rain and tears from my under eyes, sniffling leading me to believe the latter. I found myself possessed, encouraged and determined to chase that train with every bit of my being.

I'd be a liar if I said it felt 'easy' to stop the life I knew and hop onto an unknown platform.

Very little to my name, besides my name itself- I felt completely 'certain' that's where I needed to be.

With no end goal, with no pride, I made my way to the train station.

I wasn’t especially sure of my final destination, but I knew I had to go.

Blue rain boots, a flimsy plaid scarf, a duffel bag containing my life, and a shapeshifting umbrella protecting it all.

Here we go.

I boarded the train expecting nothing… of everything.

I crept the steps, carefully navigating my flow between foots and frolics from riders attempting to be sat- always hoping none would notice my clumsy attempts at getting by.

My umbrella was soaking, losing rain drops with every step; desperately reminding me of the melting ice cream that had brought me here.

I felt so uncertain of my impression to all of these new faces, but more concerned that I would make no impression at all.

My umbrella finally gave way, breaking down with the water damage endured; and I found a seat, far enough away from anyone to be able to sit down and breathe.

Positioned in an aisle seat. That’s fine. Just far enough that I could smother myself in my own scarf and pretend to be unseen while still having no one directly next to me... I felt inspired by my spur of the moment decision.

I didn’t hope to be seen there, but traffic was still passing through this train; others taking their seats.

I wished at this very moment to be more proactive; putting in some sort of “ear buds”- creating an illusion of distraction and hesitance… but that’s not me.

I’m simply not that ‘cool’.

I gripped my hands anxiously, blue rubber boots squeaking hard against one another while trying to squeeze the anxiety of this situation away…

I could feel the dryness grow on my hands as the train began to move, and my toes began to forfeit any numbness…a small victory.

(We) Were, in fact, moving forward.

I gulped beyond repair, similar to the take-off of a plane, your ears go out, but your body stiffens… I felt all of this. Every long second of this.

“Hello?”

I heard a voice reach into my subconscious.

Startled (hands clasping my very self) my eyes opened. I barely stuttered a “hello” in response before realizing my eyes had been closed this entire time.

“I didn’t mean to wake you?” He said it as if he was concerned about my current state of being.

“I’m David. I was wondering if that seat next to you was open?”

He gestured to the seat my umbrella currently called home.

I looked back and forth between myself and my umbrella next to me…a small circumference (at that time) for my malfunctioning state and that seat next to the window.

I nodded as to allow him to pass.

“Great! Thank you! I love a good window seat. Don’t you just love the rain?”

I fumbled to compile the remnants of my long-standing umbrella.

“Uh-huh.”

He held a thin messenger bag, nothing too obstructive for him to ‘scoot’ before me with and take his seat.

His hair was dark with rain, light strands like the sun shining through what would be considered sensible and “cute”, but still a bit moppy… for what I would imagine was a 30-year-old man.

He was polished and smiled politely... I relinquished my grip on my feeble umbrella, taking the armrest barrier between us as my new source of comfort.

 I didn’t speak at first, even stiffened up with the idea of such conversation happening.

I wasn’t here for conversation, I had come here to run away from it.

And then yet, I caught- from the corner of my eye- him staring out the window, watching the rain drops, watching the paths change. He didn’t edge toward any outwardly device- a phone, a laptop; not even a magazine… he instead appeared to be smirking… no, maybe half-smiling, just by what was natural to him- out (there).

I don’t know exactly when I lost full clutch of my umbrella, but it found its way under my seat, and I found myself more and more infatuated by what this man with such emerald eyes, soft hair, fine chin… might see through this window he sat by.

The skies grew dark and the tunnels darker, I had to know more, but looked down at those squeaky rubber boots of mine, pondering why…

I asked…

“David, right?”

“Yes, that’s me,” he turned with a grin that might’ve made me melt if I wasn’t still slightly shivering from my anxiety-prolonged chill…

“I’m happy to meet you.” (WHY did I say that!?)

He laughed, “Well, I’d be happy to meet you too…… ?”

“Lara.”

“Lara. What a name, I’m sure an even better story.”

My cheeks burned and my hands clasped, begging for my broken umbrella to be within my reach.

He must’ve sensed my tension because the next thing he did was quite far from expected…

“Have you ever seen the sunrise on a train, Lara?”

“No.” –Could I have said anything else!?

“Okay, let me rephrase…” He continued, once again sensing the awkwardness of my arrival to this conversation…

“Have you ever (watched) the sunrise? Truly watched it?”

He hadn’t moved from his stoic position, legs crossed, head slightly swiveled towards me.

“Well… Yes, I believe I have.” I sputtered, not really certain in my own words at the moment.

“Ah.” He smiled. Looking back towards the window, rain drops still staining the glass.

“I think it’s very important to watch a nice sunrise, especially after the rain… I don’t think there’s much in life that allows you to feel as beautiful as the rain turning into sun does.”

“I don’t think I understand?” I found the statement cryptic and frivolous… he sensed that.

“Haha! I swear I’m not a wacko, just do me a favor…”

I nodded in compliance and curiosity.

“Look out this window here.” He pointed to the window he had been sitting next to for hours prior, touching his finger to the glass and looking back, “Tell me what you see?”

I thought for a moment, contemplating a snarky remark such as “a dirty window,” but my head took the better of me and I looked… I actually saw... there was a bright hue of orange and yellow streaming through tiny beads of water.

“I see tomorrow.”

“That’s right. “

The conversation wasn’t meant to be in words after that, in fact, I felt closer than I ever had allowed myself to be in some time. I knew this moment was fleeting, but so is the day.

The train railed to a stop and David stood, positioning his messenger bag over his shoulder, politely crossing in front of me to exit…

But not before he knelt down to retrieve my broken umbrella, handing it to me with an unprecedented understanding in our eyes: “This umbrella is a beautiful color of yellow. Don’t ever lose it.”

Emerald eyes and a smirk, he walked away…

I could feel myself grin…looking down, I felt the grin touch my eyes.

When I looked up again, he was gone.

There he left me with an extra seat, broken umbrella and all. And I took it.

The rain didn't end there, not nearly, but I was happy to finally notice.

Someone approaches… “Hi, is this seat taken?”

“All yours, but the window is mine.”