Stop this train. I wanna get off and go home again.
I stood in the shower, hot water burning , John Mayer bursting my heart and reducing it to tears. I had spent the evening removing the last of the boxes and trash from the Old House. It was a bittersweet experience to say the least.
Growing up it was always an unspoken expectation to be responsible, get married, have kids, buy a home–live a life of normalcy. When you get older and that very clear Leave It To Beaver vision gets muddied, you still tend to hold onto some of it. Not everything is murky…right? I held onto the marriage and the kids and the house and the dog and the cat. The picket fences. I protest about it now, not wanting kids or marriage, but I know deep down I wanted the forever and the family. It all blew up in my face though, for reasons beyond my control (but that’s just life isn’t it?) and last night I stood in the shower, skin boiling, tears streaming at the thought of my unstoppable train.
…Can’t take the speed it’s movin’ in…
The Old House is just a structure. I get it. It could have caught on fire, been crushed by a tree, or fallen down around us at any moment, but it was home. It was our family accomplishment. It was the one place where we could go and shut the world out. The Christmases, the birthdays, the random dance fits in the living room, the romantic nights, the literal stormy nights are nothing more than vanishing memories. They are no longer housed in the walls of the brick and mortar that once housed our family.
….I know I can’t but honestly won’t someone stop this train….
On warm summer nights or slightly cool fall nights, I would walk out onto the driveway and lay down. I would put my hands behind my head and star gaze. The children would come outside and find themselves laying next to me–one on each side–staring at the night sky. Last night, for the last time, we laid in the driveway.
The Girl lay across my stomach, the Boy lay close (but not too close– he has an image to protect) and we were silent each reflecting the loss. It wasn’t just the loss of our home, but the loss of what we all thought would be forever. We lay there silently realizing there was no stopping our train and no matter how much we wanted to we wouldn’t be able to get off and go home.
Once in a while, when it’s good, it’ll feel like it should….still safe and sound and you don’t miss a thing til you cry when your drivin’ away in the dark…signin’ Stop this train. I wanna get off and go home again. Can’t take the speed it’s movin’ in….I know I can’t cause now I see I will never stop this train…