Crumbling, Rumbling Love
The rusty tracks sat below him, down a hill, and noticeably larger at this shorter distance. He was not used to this spot really, as his house sat on a surface above the railroad, and faced away from it. Who would want to watch trains on unkempt grass when they could enjoy the view of pleasant suburbia from the front porch of his home?
But that was the point, because here, he was alone.
Behind him, his childhood home rocked with the sound of conflict and items fell crashing to the floor, as angry voices echoed inside.
Sighing, he rubbed his temples and looked out at the green woods below him. An enormous headache had bloomed from the stress of the thing and he began to realize this backyard escape would not suffice. His pulse remained fast and his face hot as he attempted to piece together what remained of an idea he had been building for some seventeen years.
The concept of his parent’s relationship had long been one of admiration, for that he was certain, but of late he had noticed the firm foundation was no longer enough to support the ever crumbling, ever crashing sky scraper of their love.
At a young age he had watched other children go through their own parent’s separation, but here, from this new perspective, it seemed far more threatening and far more terrifying. Rising, he remembered his untouched chemistry homework inside, but just as he arrived at the back door the neighborhood shock with the sound of his mother’s angry scream and a final resounding crash. His parents had never been violent. They could not be violent.
Could they?
A weakness filled him as the ground vibrated from a train approaching on the tracks below. He stared blankly. Of course he had heard, seen and felt a train pass, but it had been a while since he’d seen it from here. The last time, he remembered, was actually with his father when he himself was only a toddler. His breath caught, and suddenly he felt not so far from that child after all.
A moment passed as the train approached, and with horror he realized he realized his own tears, burning with shame at the sight of them. All he wanted to do was return to his room, but that apparently meant crossing a war zone.
Turning he gazed down at the tracks, the world roaring now as the train approached. Back to the dwelling of his childhood, he stood still as the train finally barreled past, clothes whipping with the accompanying wind.
Briefly he glimpsed the passengers of the 4:00 outbound train, wondering helplessly if they could see him too.
