Train Whistles

Sometimes I lay in bed and wonder why some people go through life easily, and others have nothing but heartache. I used to believe in karma. Fate. And I suppose I still do, though some nights it's harder than others.
I'm 32 years old today. I'm 32 years old and as I lay in a new bed in a new house with my new life surrounding me, I hear a train whistle across the dark night and I can't breathe.
I am a sister and a daughter and a mother and a teacher and a lover and a dancer and a writer and I used to believe that the trains were full of people like me, running away from one life or running to another.
There's never an easy way out.
I used to believe in the goodness of humanity. Now I believe in the small disappointments. And tonight I wanted to be near those tracks with everything I thought I knew. I wanted to feel the ground shake beneath my feet, cover my ears with my hands, and scream with the universe.
For once, I wanted to hear its voice scream back at me.