Chapter 2

Trains are like friends. You never sit still with trains. You are either moving on or going back. You come and go into each other’s lives. Stopping in when life allows. People either take you places or bring you back. Neither one is bad. Sometimes you need people to bring you back. But you also need them to have your mind, your hand, your purpose and take them somewhere.

I boarded the train with the heaviest purple 62 linear-inch suitcase in tow. A beautiful French woman handed me the lunch she bought for the ride. We said goodbye. The last task to accomplish before departing to Florence was complete, though not without tears.

One chapter closes (sent out with a boost from peanut butter m&m's), another begins.

The snow I saw from the train window scared me a little. The last thing I wanted to deal with in Florence was snow. The express train charged through the seasons with the same exigency as a spring day in Idaho. It left the rain, passed through snow, and arrived in the sun within a matter of hours. Just breathe.

I was the first in line to exit the train. Imagine a small gray carry-on suitcase, a blue vinyl messenger bag on one shoulder, a giant net bag on the other. The purple monster suitcase, hand crafted with the purpose of transporting 4 pig-sized items (My Whitlock grandparents sponsored sending an American pig to Africa once--the organization probably used a suitcase as big as mine to transport it). One door. Three steps. 20 Italians waiting behind me. If anyone can imagine the reason horns are honking the millisecond that a stop-light turns green, then one can imagine that holding up a line is a No-No. Nervous, I fidgeted by the doors waiting for the moment they slid open.

In my mind: I effortlessly lifted the pig-appropriate, purple monster in one hand while simultaneously stepping down the three steps with my burdened shoulders and other hand filled with the carry on and made "contact" with the cement below.

In reality: I tried to step over all three stairs at once to the platform with the monster. The net bag on my shoulder slid off, as it always does. The monster barely begrudge itself to leave the ground in my attempts to lift it by the handle, as it always does. My leg that was left behind on the top step fumbled a little causing me to lose any graciousness, as it always does. The carry-on was in the way, as it always is, for a moment on the stair only to be handed down by the next person in line. What gives?

But, my room is beautiful. I live in city-center, which is amazing. I have the most adorable roommates (one is dutch, one is brazilian) who are 18. We love to eat together at night. It is the best part of the day. I started school on Monday so today is end of week 1 of 4. I cross a fantastic bridge every day which I will take a picture of later. I successfully avoid death in the narrow roads. Don't walk two by two, you might get hit by a vehicle. Which could, of course, be a bicyclist, or a rickshaw. Ok, not a rickshaw, but smart cars might as well be one.

Peace and Love

and present simple/present continuous tenses of speech

m. jean