Train to Moncton from Sackville

Wedding week. On the train from Sackville heading toward Stacy and Kevin and a big bottle of wine. Neck killing me but can't find my brace, must've fallen behind something. Tired already and it hasn't even begun.

Clouds looks like fingerprints, like handprints, like someone touched the sky, left their mark. Fine lines, swirling lines and crotched trees. All the markers a lab would need to prove identification. God's private joke, hiding in plain sight.

Four people from Truro travel to Toronto for the first time. They're in for a long night. Playing cards, crazy 8's instead of crib or euchre, drinking beer. Lots of kids going somewhere today too.

The further away from Sackville, the cloudier it gets, the more my joints ache. I'm at home on the marsh, the climate pleases me, helps limit crippling attacks and uncomfortable swelling, feeds my creativity . . . and yet . . . and yet I feel afloat, like somebody let go of my string and I could end up anywhere, many wheres. Haven't had time to bond with my community and it's already been months . . . where will I float to next? Can anyone reach the string and pull me in?

Starving. No food today. Not much yesterday. Too busy to eat. Terry's voice running in my head, "If you don't eat, you don't poop . . . and if you don't poop, you die." Sound advice. I'll eat when I get there.

On the new train, the one with the single seats. Man across the way looks vaguely familar . . . now that I look, the four of them seem familar. Do Maritimers all look the same? Are we all cousins?

Dorchester. The Pen. I know entirely too many criminals, too many people who have been in Dorchester and beyond, as if crime is okay and I endorse it.

I am not at my best on this trip. Need coffee or something. Worried I forgot to unplug stuff . . . knowing I didn't forget, I NEVER forget.

Memramcook.

Chocolate River.

Almost Moncton . . . and no snacks yet. No coffee. I'm hungry. There are supposed to be snacks served at my seat on this train, usually before Moncton. Stacy and I will go for supper.

The woman across the way has a brother living in the Carolinas that she's never visited . . . I can't imagine having family I never visited, no matter how far away. Can't imagine a life without sisters and nieces and Samuel. Can't imagine children growing up without me seeing them. Even when I lived away in Toronto, I came back, they came out, we saw each other many times every year.

Today, Sackville and Miramichi. Tomorrow, Miramichi and Fredericton. Moncton by the weekend maybe. I'm on a coaster and it's shaping up to be a wild ride.