"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known."- Carl Sagan
Ah, the wisdom I find on my refrigerator. I sometimes think the best part about moving into an apartment that has already been settled into is the little discoveries you make from day to day. There are a handful of quotes floating about our kitchen currently, none of which has anything to do with my contributed decor, and I will say that I have read this particular quote a time or two but only recently has it blossomed into meaning in my life.
Let me explain.
Back on Monday, the 3rd day of the month of June, I decided that I would be going home to Oregon to surprise my younger sister who was graduating that Saturday from high school (some times referred to as the easiest part of life... which I must say is completely untrue and perhaps deserves a blog post all to itself). Now, on my part-time working wage this was no walk in the park for my account. However, the more I thought on it, the more sure I was that I would regret not making the trip more than the aftermath it would wreak.
I laid out my plan, asked for the proper time off from work, booked my train tickets (for there were multiple for both the journey to Oregon and then back again) and I was off!
The first leg of my trip started at 11:30 PM on Wednesday night and would last a little over 15 hours. Quite frankly, had I known the layout of a train better it might have passed a little more adventurously but as it is, I stayed in my seat (aside from the necessary trips to the lavatory) and drifted in and out of sleep. Just before getting on the train, I had struck up a conversation with a young man who looked about my age. I asked if he had ever ridden the train before and after admitting that, like me, he hadn't, I suggested we be friends and thus (once he found there were only shared seats to be found) he sat down beside me.
I soon found that he was LDS (like myself) and affianced. Furthermore his trip was a surprise as well but for his fiancee. We passed the waking hours quite pleasantly talking about relationships and his area of study (not so much the math major part but the minor he received in Arabic and the influence his serving in Ethiopia and Uganda on his LDS mission had on this decision).
The train arrived in Sacramento and Jamie was staying on for another couple of hours to travel further south toward Berkley.
Sitting down in the train station at Sacramento, I let go of the breath I had not been aware I was holding and wondered what I would do for the next ten hours. Yes. That is right. 10 hour layover in Sacramento? Apparently it is a common occurrence when traveling by train.
As I sat there wondering what in the world I was going to do, two young men approached me and asked if I would be staying at the station for long and if so would I watch over their belongings whilst they went to the mall and made some purchase. Figuring I had nothing else to do, I shrugged a shoulder and said sure though I was trying to see if my friend who lives in Sacramento would come spend time with me.
The older of the two, Joel, gave me his phone number and said that if I needed to leave sooner than it took them to do their shopping I could call him. Assuming it would be a good idea that he know my number as well just in case he was the type not to answer his phone when an unknown number calls, I sent him a text. Before I knew it, we were having a pleasant conversation.
I found out through observation that one could check in their bags for a small fee for a few hours at the Baggage Check and upon telling the guys this, they returned and though I had resolved to explore Old Sacramento alone, Joel suggested he come with me since he, too, wasn't planning on boarding a train anytime soon. We bid farewell to the other guy who had to get on the train in 30 minutes time and started our exploration of Sacramento. Of course I missed the sign that pointed to Old Sacramento (which I discovered on my trip back from Oregon...) we ended up walking through the mall (with a stop at Bath and Body Works of course) and passed both the Catholic Cathedral and the Capitol.
Finally finding a map, we discovered that, indeed, Old Sacramento lie on the other side of the mall. Good heavens, I thought to myself.
So we turned around and headed back. However the heat and humidity was killing me so we took a break and sat on a shady and grass-covered knoll and had some good discussion. He told me of his family and I told him of mine. I don't think you could have found any two pasts that were so contrasting. However, our pasts are what have made us who we are now and that is what we are given to work with.
Old Sacramento. If you have a sweet tooth like mine, it's the best place to go. I am pretty confident in saying that we ran across 5 different candy shops within 2 square miles. He thought it was ridiculous and I thought it was fantastic. The architecture was pretty neat to look at and admire as well.
It started to get dark and the wind was picking up in a rather chilly way. We walked back to the station and continued our conversations and were mistaken as a married couple multiple times. We had a good laugh at that. I cannot express how grateful I was to have such a companion there because, much to my anxiety's dismay, my train was nearly two hours behind schedule.
He dropped me off on the platform and I felt rather torn knowing that he still had a few hours left in Sacramento (which turned into two days, I believe) but all good meetings must come to an end.
Well, I found myself on the train for 8 more hours as I headed up to Klamath Falls, seated beside a foreign gentleman who was quite polite and endearing making the ride easy and not so worrisome.
I was glad to get to Klamath to find the train had made up its lost time and I only had to wait an hour for my bus to Medford to arrive. Ironically, the best sleep I got was on the bus where I finally had two seats to myself and for some reason seemed infinitely more comfortable compared to the full day and half before. 2 hours has never passed so quickly in travel time before but when I tumbled off the vehicle and into the blessedly comfortable air of Medford, I only had to wait 5 minutes before my mother and aunt came rolling up in my aunt's newly acquired blue bug (she has had a green one for years but apparently it recently gave up the ghost, so to speak).
I was thrilled when Mom suggested Olive Garden for lunch and we had quite a merry time at it too, catching up on all the news and my travels up until then.
However, it has become most apparent that when one is kept from traveling winding roads for too long, the immunity to car sickness that one builds up wears away. We stopped for a few minutes in Gasquet to use the restrooms and purchase some refreshment. Now, anyone who knows me, knows I will usually willing reach for a Root Beer or Cola when offered but my stomach was having none of it and I did a very Mikkaila thing (Mikkaila being my younger sister for whom the surprise of my visit was) and reached for bottled water. It surprised Mom a little bit but knowing I was feeling unwell deemed it a smart choice on my part.
After removing my leftover pasta (which had smelled great at the restaurant but not so great to the woozy me) to the trunk and drinking about half of the water bottle, I cozied up in the back seat with my pillow (which I had brilliantly brought with me on the train ride, seriously) I dozed off, thankfully, until we rolled into the driveway, finally arriving home.
As is usual, my younger siblings (except for Mikkaila who was still at work) came trampling out of the house and demanding hugs. Laden with my baggage and still feeling a little woozy, I told them to at least let me set my things down first in a more exasperated tone than they deserved seeing as it had been two months since they had last seen me and almost a year since I had last been home in Oregon.
However, I obliged them with hugs and kisses once my things were set aside and was grateful for a shower that had been denied me for two full days by this point. (Probably the one true downside to traveling by train.) Soon, my older brother and father returned home from fishing on the open sea and a few hours after that Mikkaila was finally home.
I walked out quite calmly as she rolled into the driveway, the windows down, music blasting and (I wish I could have taken a picture of that face) she saw me. The windows couldn't roll up fast enough, the car turned off safely enough as I greeted her on the driver's side of the car. I nearly choked on some fly away hairs when she hugged me but that was the first brilliant sign that I was right in coming home.
This was all written about the 15th of June of last year (being 2013). How time sure does fly.
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