A setting sun silhouettes a lonely mountain, and although I have seen the sight so many times before, today has a clarity that I have not experienced for many years. Tiny hills and peaks jut out of the distant horizon. The somber sky provides a new contrast to the scene, and it almost seems that I am leaving a place different from when I first arrived.

My train should be here any minute now. I think little about where I am leaving as I stand alone on the platform. This place is not my home; it is merely a place for me to rest, and I have rested here long enough.

As the train slides into the station, I take one last look at my little resting place. There are no second doubts in my mind while I board the train. I am sure I will subsist, although I know not where I am going, how I shall survive, or how long I will stay.

A magnificent steam whistle exclaims its hurried cry, and I know my life is moving one more time. As the train begins its journey, a thought comes to my mind, one which I know well: What am I leaving behind, and will this be the last time I move on? It is but a fleeting question, and it soon departs from my mind.

Rolling green hills pass me by, and mountains beyond my powers of description loom in the distance. The skies above are warmer now and dotted with cottony clouds. Surely the skies I will see in the distance will be as clear as they are here; the hills will be as green as they are everywhere else. Despite a distrust in predestination, I know that my life will not change much. I expect good things on the other side of those great mountains in the distance.

The last train of the day is about to arrive and I wait on the platform. Boarding the train, I can see everything I missed so long ago. There are no doubts. I look out the window as the train rounds a curve and I see the mountains in the distance. I expect good things on the other side.

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