STRANGERS or FRIENDS ???

I have a friend, ok ok “friend” may not be an accurate term, I mean wouldn’t invite him to my daughter’s wedding, and I certainly don’t think he would front up at my funeral. But for a brief minute or so every morning, he and I share a connection that no-one else is privy to.

I’m not even sure how to describe this connection. There’s nothing “bromantic” about it, we hardly even engage, but every morning at exactly 6:08 am the world ceases to turn, and he and I are caught in a lapse of time where we stand united for a cause that momentarily holds the entire balance of the universe in its fickle hands.

Actually, the reality is we “run”. We run like crazed bulls. We run wildly, unsure of how long our opportunity will last, yet convinced that all is determinant on the legs that carry us.
It is a beautiful and sacred thing, an experience that both enriches and unites. Together, he and I move as one. Others watch bewildered and in awe. They stare at us, make way for us, and sometimes even cheer for us. But they are not a part of us, they are mere bystanders of our quest, unprivileged to the responsibility he and I carry.

The responsibility of which I speak is, of course, that of getting from the first train of the morning to another train on a different platform. The chances for success are slim, for even the slightest delay will see both of us miss our transfer and subsequently be late for work.

It is a challenge and a burden that only he and I share. While others casually stroll through the motions sipping their morning lattes, we fight for our very survival and strive to maintain our existence on this planet (you may think I speak in hyperbole for effect, but that’s because you are not us).
We are driven men. Men motivated not merely by a slightly inconvenienced boss, but by our deep-seated fear. YES, fear.
Although you know not our journey, the fear I present is all too familiar. It is the fear that all commuters dread, the fear of arriving on the platform only to see your chariot mockingly abandoning you to your own shadow.

But for my “friend” and I, we stare that fear squarely in the eye, and together we charge like “kings”. And like “kings” as we burst through the open doors of our awaiting destiny, we laugh and sigh, and smile and relax to the now soothing tones of the words, “doors closing, please stand clear”. It is a moment of precious joy that none can take from us. It is a celebration frozen in time.

Yes, my friend, again have stared down the gauntlet of despair and emerged victorious. We have thrown all to the wind and arisen as heroes, and in this moment we are more than just “friends”, we are brothers.

And then the train moves, Time starts up once again.

You turn to face the window and I move down the carriage and scuffle to find my phone. We are no longer comrades in arms. We have ceased to be brothers, for the moment has now past and gone, once more we return to the safe and familiar post of being strangers on a train, two unconnected individuals on the morning commute.

BUT,

Tomorrow we shall “dance” again.