A Beckoning Train Whistle

In the distance she could hear the call of the trains and considering her current status in life she was about ready to pack her bags. 

She had just spent the last five weeks with her husband in the ICU at the USCLA Hospital, where he finally succumbed to his deteriorating body, too old to fight the battle, his soul was willing but his heart was spent.  And there she was now a widow.  Surrounded by supportive adult children and grandchildren she didn’t have to lift a finger.  They took over the house and the kitchen like an invading army getting everything in order.

There were things to attend to, finding photographs from the past, sorting them in order of events that were important to the departed.  The NY Jets is the family church and everything they could find to display was out on display, the Jets flag hanging on the side of the house, the “Go Jets” banner strung across the driveway, Jets jerseys worn by everyone, Jets earrings, tennis shoes, hats and even a real Jet helmet, and a miniature Jets pick up truck with doll house furniture to display a tailgate party was featured.

Everyone was invited to the life’s celebration party, two open bars, tables of food, ice chests filled with beer, wine and soft drinks were offered to the guests.  The bartender, waiters, and house manager from the departed favorite's watering hole came to offer their respects.  People told great stories about the honoree and gales of laughter ricochet off the mountains and all thorough the neighborhood.  She stood among all of them greeting each one and thanking them for coming. She looks frail and spent but her character is one of grace.

After the crowds left well past the appointed hours, she stood outside on the deck and heard the Starlight Express clicking over the tracks, then she knew she had to pack her bags and start an adventure, one of hope, peace and pleasure.  She was on her way.