The comfort of the trains

I did not grow up near trains. I never heard the lullaby of the train whistle or the engine or the wheels on the tracks growing up.

The last three places where I have lived, though, I've learned to love the sounds of the trains going by. It started in Summerville, SC. Through the woods at night, I would hear the trains at bedtime. The whistles were my clock. They did not come through often, but they came through on schedule, every night. And the second time I heard the whistle, I was ready to let myself go to sleep.

We lived closer to the tracks in Nebraska. Not close enough for the windows or dishes to rattle, but close enough to hear the train all the time. The town we lived in was on the main line of the Union Pacific Railroad, and we had 60-80 trains go through a day. Driving across town became frustrating at times, especially when they closed the viaduct for repairs and we no longer had a way to go over the tracks. But again, the sounds of the trains became a comfort, a normalcy.

We now live in Meyersdale, PA, which is on the main line of the Chessie system. We are a block and a half from the tracks. When we first got here, I was a little concerned, as the trains mainly come through at night. And the whistles are LOUD, being less than 2 blocks away. But, again, it became a lullaby. It's odd at night to lie in bed and not hear the train come through. It's been muted, since the church put new windows in the parsonage. I know that this summer it will again be loud...and I look forward to it. Oh, yes, sometimes I will wake up when a particularly long blast is sounded. But sometimes it just becomes a part of whatever I'm dreaming.