A simple streetlight was standing tall on a dark and cold night, a lonely whistle of a train far off and a feeling of hopelessness ringing in my ears. This loneliness was how I felt many times as a child; and was something I felt many times, and it was often overwhelming. When you are a small child, that feeling is very terrifying. It’s crazy how a simple streetlamp shining in the darkness and a lonely train whistle can mean so much and harbor such powerful feelings. Yet when I hear it, I always feel that sadness at that moment. The first time I listened to the train, I was a small child lying in the darkness looking through a window with heavy bars on it at a streetlamp in the darkness. This memory is coupled with the hiss and glow of the gas heater blowing its hot flame, my baby sister asleep on the couch across from me. I remember being so sad at that time in my life, a sadness that I shouldn’t have felt at such a young age. Looking back at this memory and the pain and hopelessness associated with it, it is a wonder that I still have any of these feelings. Life is good, but I still wonder why a solitary train whistle can still bring back so many memories of sadness. Every time I hear it, I expect it to be different.
What does the train whistle represent to me? I believe it is the loneliness that I felt at the moment. It is the passing of time, the fleeting moment a memory is made in a hopeless time. The train was going somewhere, and at the moment, I was stuck. So many times, I have heard it blast a lonely call to go somewhere, to be something. We all feel lonely in some way. I have felt the loneliness that grips a person, and it seems like no one understands or knows how you are feeling.
Clarice Lispector, a favorite author of mine, has a quote I admire says: “I am forced to seek a truth that transcends me.”
The truth about it is that many people feel this loneliness. I remember many times when my grandparents’ house was a place of refuge. Where this scene played out many times. I am slowly making several realizations about growing up and, being at my grandparents’ house made sense. Usually, we would go to their house it was 3 or 5 times a year. Dad would meet us halfway, and it was always so fun. PaPaw would get off work, and in the afternoon, we would go to the video store. Back then, we watched movies a little differently, and the big old tapes were about the size of a plate. We would go on $1 night and rent like ten, and we would watch them all night. PaPaw would be long gone in the morning to work, and when he got home that night, we would sometimes do it again. Even in all of this fun and memories, I remember even then, with PaPaws beautiful smile, I was alone still. I sometimes wonder if he knew. I wonder did my Papaw know how alone I felt; I believe he did.
Lots of times, when my sister and I slept, we would fall asleep on the couches watching TV. We would have the lights off, and the only thing on was the space heater on the wall blowing hot and true and always burning in a cornucopia of colors. It would sometimes flash on the walls, and it was always cool watching it, and still, I felt lonely. That colorful, brightly burning heater made it so hot in that room, and even with that hot was a daunting feeling again of loneliness.
That streetlight outside standing tall and true it withstood everything. All the seasons on the earth, hot and cold, are a brutal stare at the reality of life. It stood and stood and witnessed a lot of things, I am sure. It saw the good of life and the bad it was a harbinger of doom and reality of life. Yet it stood and witnessed life in its moments. So, it reminded me of this when I saw it. I saw it in many seasons the one I liked was cold, wet, and rainy. Everything was calm, no chaos, and it just was. So yes, the streetlight played a part in this memory.
I hear that whistle a lot lately; it blows and blows and makes the passage of time march on like a dead army fighting at sunrise. Finally, I have gleaned some idea of what it means; life combined with the streetlight outside and the bars in the window. Life goes on, I understand, at the human level, but it is a harbinger of certain truths in life on another level. Life is lonely, life hurts, and somewhere there is a train leaving for another place, maybe a place of peace.
I heard again this morning in another moment of sadness. A friend had experienced unexpected loss, and I believe also this is a sign of a reckoning; life goes on in the timeless way it always has. In this, I can’t decide if this is good or bad, so I just keep listening and hope.