The air rushes with the bustle of the station’s busiest hour. Business men and women sweep through the platforms, eager to get home for the long weekend and leave the briefcases they’re so tightly clutching by the door.
My eyes flit back and forth, watching each occupant of the station pass the terminal I’m planted in front of. My heart sinks slowly as I long to be as joyous to board my train as they must be to board theirs.
Remembering my train, my eyes move from the busy passengers to the clock on the column to my right.
Five minutes… I remark to myself, seeing the minute hand just five ticks away from the top of the hour.
As I’m processing the time, a dreadful look on the face of the person I’d been sharing this moment with catches the corner of my eye. My slowly descending heart seems to make its descent into my stomach when I fully notice his painful gaze and pursed lips.
I lay my hand on his arm, causing him to jump.
After a moment to collect himself, he looks down at me, smiles brokenly, but then looks back forward, his expression still as solemn as before.
I frown, disappointed. I then look at the clock behind him again. Four minutes now.
Linking my arm in with his, treasuring the small bit of warmth in the midst of his sorrow, I push myself up on my toes to reach his ear.
“I’ll be back,” I whisper, praying in the moment that what I’ve just said is true. “I’m going to look for tickets for next month and write to you as soon as I get back.”
I see the stone expression that he’d been wearing the past few minutes soften slightly, a small tear rolling down his cheek.
Suddenly, his body shifts, and I feel him pull me into his chest, the warmth I’d been feeling consuming me while his arms enclose me, and I start to cry.
“God…” I hear him whisper, “Please bring us back together.”
I nod in agreement, tears rolling down my face and the weight in my stomach dissolving and dissipating into the air around me.
“I love you,” I say quietly.
“I love you, too,” he whispers back, loosening his grip slightly so that I’m able to look up and see his eyes hanging onto my every movement.. He traces my face with his hands, and I hold his wrist tightly, closing my eyes.
The bustle falls silent. All of the eager passengers have disappeared, the trains have stopped running. We abide there in the moment. Our own silent, eternal world.
Then I feel a small wind blowing at my back. I clutch his wrist tighter, closing my eyes even further to solidify the darkness. But the wind only strengthens, pushing us back into the train station.
I open my eyes and see the clock again, the minute hand only one tick away from the hour. I shut my eyes again, only for a moment, and give his wrist a final squeeze before slowly starting to let go.
His arms tighten around my waist as the air from the arriving train blows my hair onto his cheek. He takes one hand and holds it there, his eyes pleading. I place my hand on his elbow, hoping for another moment in our private universe, before the train’s screech jars us both back to reality.
The train doors open to our left, and I see the light from the compartment cars dance across the darkness on his face. He says nothing, but draws his arms back slowly.
“I-I have to go,” I say tearfully.
He nods, biting his lip, and steps back entirely, holding only my hand.
“We’ll see each other again,” he says, almost to himself.
In an instant, I realize that the train won’t wait for us to say goodbye, and I quickly nod, moving to get on the train and feeling his hand reluctantly let go.
I enter the nearest compartment and quickly find a seat, one near a window. Grateful for the light, I look out into the masses and see him in the same place, his eyes fixed on me. A heaviness comes over me, and I wave sheepishly. He raises his hand to wave back, but I’m distracted by the train’s bell ringing and look over to see the door close. Before I’m able to refocus on him, the train begins moving. Frantically, my eyes scan the rapidly disappearing terminal, all of the busy patrons from before seeming to have begun their journeys home. I crane my head to try to see him through the smudged glass, but the train just as soon enters a tunnel that shuts the rest of the world out.
Taking a deep breath, I look into the train car, now more dimly lit.
Th-that’s it for now. I tell myself. Continuing to breathe deeply, I look out the window at the inside of the tunnel, imagining a more beautiful view. One with the luscious fields we had walked and the sapphire sky we’d found shapes in. The wildflowers he had picked for me. The river that we drank from. Something to take me back to him.
Until next time…
Hi! Raven here, the other half of Faith and Song. I know this is kind of a bummer for my first post on this blog, but I wanted to share a little of mine and Josiah’s history and what God has brought us through with you guys. Josiah and I had a long distance relationship from April 2020 to May 2022. That timeframe included a year and two months of us not being able to see each other in person at all, multiple visits throughout the rest of our dating relationship, our marriage proposal, and about six months of our engagement. I’m going to be honest, pursuing that relationship and making it work was probably one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. But I know Josiah and I look back and know that we didn’t do it alone or from our own strength. Throughout our entire relationship, our goal has been to keep Christ first and to follow Him in everything. And He definitely led us through the most challenging and hurtful parts of our relationship and is the reason it’s still alive today. We know that God has big plans for our marriage and are learning every day to trust Him to bring us to where He wants us to be. Our relationship is for His glory, and the perseverance that it’s taken to make it through it has taught us that, because it gives us the opportunity to tell all of you how awesome He is and how He shows His love for us. I love Josiah, and I thank God every day for the opportunity to live this life with him.
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