The things farthest away ought to change the least. The sky, the horizon, the dark tree line on the hill, all of these things ought to move slowly past the window. Then, the closer things like the green fields and long hedgerows, the allotments and the lines of poplars, they go by much faster. The track, the sleepers and the gravel are all a motion-blur of grit and streaks of metal railway. That's how it's supposed to be.
Life doesn't do that though, as you travel through it. The things closest to you seem to change the slowest and the people far away don't even realise the breathtaking speed at which their lives are changing. It seems to be the other way around.
It seems. That's the point isn't it? It's perception of change. We're all changing, all the time. I don't think how I used to, you don't look like you did and everything is different. The scenery has changed and you and I, we're the last to notice.
I don't quite know what brought all that on. My greying reflection in the train window perhaps. It suddenly occurred to me that everything is changing all the time and it's just a matter of figuring out what to hold on to, and what to let go of. It isn't negative, or positive, it's whatever you make of it.
The sun sank behind the clouds as Alexandra Palace came into view. Lights twinkled on and the train rocketed through Finsbury Park Station, past the Emirates and into King's Cross.
The real trick must be learning to embrace change, to see the positives in it and to trust that we have what it takes to be better. The train heads in one direction, after all.
I got home, swung open the door and collected the mail. On went the kettle, out came the biscuits and up went the travelling feet.
It's been a really good weekend but I was happy to be home, and to find it exactly as I'd left it.
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