Disappearing into the Horizon

Familiar places become a part of the background, scarcely noticed during the normal course of events. Whatever magic spark once drew us there dies, replaced by the mundane regularity of existence. This is perhaps a shame.

If we can remember the feeling of that spark, though, maybe there is a chance that it can reignite with the right stimuli. Trickery might be involved.

* * *

This was four years ago and I've forgotten everything. We probably ate a decadent brunch on the other side of the tracks. Actually, no. At that time of year we were meeting my parents at a different restaurant off to the right, just up the hill and through a small park where weddings are sometimes held.

It's possible that we stopped for a beer on the way back to the station, before getting on the train that would take us home. There were no clouds in the sky, and there is a sense of timelessness that pervades the scene.

* * *

People can be the same way. The familiar becomes comfortable, which is good, but which is also easy to take for granted. More trickery is needed to keep it all fresh and new.

This is just a theory. It might be complete hogwash. Sometimes it's hard to tell.

* * *

Tracks stretch into the distance, lined by palm trees. Trains will come and go, disappearing into the horizon on their way to other places that may or may not be familiar. A horn blows, there is the clanging of bells. People stop to watch. Some get off the train, others get on.

There are a finite number of destinations along the line, but it never feels that way. Every time, it seems like anything is possible. And maybe, just maybe, it is.