This is Day 1 of my “Year of Living Train‑gously.” I took a train to Macomb, Illinois for a free jazz festival in the Western Illinois Museum. I’m Elsa‑ing my life — not freezing my heart, but releasing what isn’t mine to carry. Let it go.
The last time I came here, my life felt small and rationed. I didn’t understand everything that was happening around me, and I often accepted storylines that weren’t real. I tried very hard to make good memories in a place where I didn’t always feel respected or safe. Today is different. Today is mine.
I’m sitting here in my factory clothes among mostly fancy‑dressed people. I worked four overtime hours this morning, grabbed my charger, laptop, and backpack, and caught the Amtrak. I brought a can of Pepsi from The Book Depot and now I’m sipping a glass of 2024 Hahn Cabernet Sauvignon while writing in my commonplace book.
I’m working on a book called Rails of Arrival, which will include my father — who was born in the train car his family lived in when they first arrived in this country. There’s something grounding about trains, about movement, about choosing your own direction.
The first leg of the jazz festival ended with a song written by the singer herself. And now I’m about to join a music circle where I might get to participate a little. I can’t believe how beautiful life is when I’m actually living it, not negotiating it or shrinking inside it. Today feels open to Life.
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