There’s a train that rolls right through downtown, like a rumble from the belly of this city. With pictures of wheat heads and company names hiding beneath the flamboyant art of wild graffiti the slow and steady beast makes its way through the center of the bustling streets. It’s cold out, my nose drenched pink in cold while a whip of wind sticks to my ears, and I can’t help but think of sleeping in that old small town home with these noises I hear, so I grin.

We’d grown up where hills hovered around your head and valleys dropped their very soul beneath your feet as though adventure might always be both too big and ever-humbled at the approaching of our little tiny feet. Oftentimes while we’d finish brushing our teeth and dreaming of outer space being made up entirely of beautifully shaped ice cream and brownies and we’d climb into bed trying not to close our eyes or relinquish our imagination even for a night of subconscious thought. And while we’d fight the night, we’d hear a nearly age-old sound of that slow and steady beast. It would come from or head directly to the belly of that city by rounding it’s way beside those giant hills by the toes of our home and wrap gently around my ears like a grandfather mumbling rather boldly to himself. And I would sleep like a child listening to an old familiar lullaby, with that train tumbling down loosely oiled tracks like a good friend.

Is there a care in the world for such a thing? Is there a worry of being too loud, too boisterous or awful to look at with spray paint covering its name? I notice the black suit jackets like straight jackets stare towards the train, but I just highly doubt he cares. I just highly doubt he cares to apologize for the sound or the space that he takes, and I know he is without thought but with imagination I’m bound here to wonder.

We’re like that you know?

We’re just like those big old trains winding through hills and cramped up cities with our names sunk below the flamboyant art of others opinions, expectations. And we’re just trying to be bold enough to move, to be ourselves even with all we think makes us look, sound, and feel so wrong. But we move, even little by little we move slow, we move steady. I’m sure at the end of the day we don’t even recognize all the ways we influence others. The way we inspire, challenge, hope and dream for others simply by moving and being ourselves. Like big old trains singing lullaby’s to girls with sleepy wild hearts, moving through towering hills and bustling cities, I wonder with all we are not.