Happy Valentine's Day, friendos!

You know when, in a relationship that's in its infancy, you feel lit from within again for the first time in a long time?
Where you can't wait for your phone to buzz, for the doorbell to ring, for your next time together?

I'm in that phase right now, and it feels really good.
Like it's supposed to be.
He's chivalrous, kind, compassionate, just as affectionate as I am, hilarious as all get out, worldly and I daresay the first real man I've dated.

On this Valentine's Day eve, I wish you much love and affection - whether you're single or married, believe in Valentine's Day or not.

Thanks for reading Ramblings On.

Thoughts from a wannabe-vagabond.

Just at the end of my street, beyond the overgrown weeds and gravel that line them, are train tracks.

I've lived here four and a half years now, and I'll never get tired of hearing the trains go by.

It's such a darkly romantic sound to me, especially when it's raining.
It conjures up a foggy image of a deserted depot in the middle of nowhere.
She sits restlessly on the bench having a cigarette to pass the time until his train arrives. He'll step down onto the platform, definitely wearing a chapeau and they'll stand there gazing at each other for a moment before embracing. The months and pain will fall away, and the train will chugga-chugga on to the next depot, the next ...

There's a loneliness to trains too. I always feel wistful when I hear that whistle blowing, like I'm missing out on where ever it's going. Like I want to be a vagabond stealing away in one of the freight cars, seeing the world, nature and America whiz by.

Tonight I was walking the track when the 6:45ish went by, just on the other side of the chain link fence. It was only a few cars, maybe 20, but as it whizzed by, I fought the urge to hop that fence and have a Dylan-esque journey of my own. But instead, I pensively formed this blog in my head and await the next train, the next yearning.

Will I be able to silence that one? I don't think I can forever ...