By ChoitalykRuman
That afternoon in Washington, D.C., the city was alive with both motion and stillness. Near the White House, the wide roads stretched like open arms, their edges softened by lines of tall trees. The air carried the scent of autumn leaves mixed with the hum of traffic. Tourists paused to take pictures, office workers hurried by with files in hand, and somewhere in the distance, a saxophone sang a tune that wrapped itself around the city’s rhythm.
I walked slowly, a little weary from the day, letting the breeze brush gently against my face. The buildings stood tall and proud, yet the whispering leaves reminded me that even in the midst of steel and stone, nature still found its voice.
By the time I reached Metro Center, my feet were heavy, and I longed for rest. As I descended into the station, I watched streams of people vanish into tunnels, each carrying stories of their own. I boarded the train toward Dunn Loring, leaned back against the seat, and let my thoughts wander. That’s when a memory returned—something a friend once shared with me about her mother, a wisdom passed down from her grandmother.
Her grandmother used to say:
“Life is like a train, child. You don’t stop at every station, and not everyone rides with you until the end.”
When she was young, those words felt like just another one of her grandma’s sayings, the kind whispered while cooking or sewing. But as time moved on and her own hair began to gray, the meaning became clearer.
In youth, the train feels crowded, noisy, and fast. Friends, neighbors, classmates, family—all aboard together. The compartments are full of laughter, plans, and endless chatter, and it feels as if the ride will last forever.
But slowly, passengers begin to step off. Some leave because their path takes them elsewhere. Others are lost suddenly, leaving empty seats behind. With each stop, the train grows quieter.
And that is where her grandmother’s wisdom takes shape. The secret is not to mourn everyone who leaves but to cherish those who remain beside you. To look out the window and notice the changing view—sunrises and sunsets, fields and mountains, rivers and cities—because that scenery is part of the gift of the journey.
Her grandmother’s words still echo:
“Don’t be afraid when the train empties out. Be grateful for the company you had, and when your stop comes, step off in peace, knowing you traveled well.”
Life, I realize, is exactly like that train—filled with comings and goings, meetings and farewells, noise and quiet. And in the end, the beauty is not in perfection, but in the simple truth that the journey was ours.
- #ChoitalykRuman; #ummeymia
2025 ChoitalykRuman (Ummey R Miah). All rights reserved.