I sit at my desk and see the trains coming and going. I’ve developed a habit of looking at the time, and think “ah, the 8:05, right on time”, or whatever time it happens to be when I look up and see them, or hear their whistle (when I had visitors this summer, they thought I had the train schedule memorized :)). Somehow, it brings me comfort to hear that whistle, see them gliding by across the water, and wonder where the passengers might be headed to. So many stories inside one of those trains. I have my own stories of train travels; maybe that’s what brings comfort, seeing my memories glide silently by.