The moment I step onto a train,
I turn into a schoolgirl again —
wide-eyed, curious, ready for anything.
This morning, I left without plans.
Under a sky painted with grey clouds, white clouds, and hints of blue,
the world felt quiet, as if inviting me somewhere.
I got off at Henderson,
walked wherever the breeze pulled me,
and paused wherever the scent of flowers stopped me.
A soft, sweet fragrance drifted through the platform —
reminding me of my childhood countryside,
turning a strange town into something warm and familiar.
Swanson was a tiny place.
Just enough shops to live life.
Quiet, simple, honest.
Trains come only once every hour,
so I took the gap as a gift
and sat with a long black in a small café,
watching the world move gently through the window.
Somewhere nearby, roosters called to one another —
as if having an endless conversation.
Their voices sounded like:
“Who will visit us today?”
Full of hope and excitement.
And not to disappoint them,
I picked up my steps and returned to the station.
As the train moved again, I thought:
“The greatest gift of solo travel is this —
you can get lost, wander, pause,
and still arrive exactly where your heart wants to be.”
Today’s steps: 19,400
Today’s lesson: how to wander without fear
Today’s feeling: travel always looks a lot like life.
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