A Trainwreck

Many years passed before Becca could look at the moon in all its color and splendor. “I remember that night every time I look at the moon. It shone through my window. That moon triggered and robbed me of moonlight walks on starlit trails. I felt denied of nights lounging on my deck where I could relax and gaze at the bright shape in the sky. My fears ruled my living for so many years.”

Becca remembered that night as both frightening and mesmerizing.

The orbed shape silhouetted against the darkness. Curtains of rain clouds merged with the soupy sea of blackness. A shadowy forest of shifting shapes wandered in the landscape of her refuge.

While the full moon ebbed and the late winter snow melted, Becca slept tranquil and dreamless until the moonlit speeding train hurtled into her life.

Less than three hundred feet from the little house built by her hands, a train that pulled bulky boxcars full of lumber, equipment, and chemicals, collided with good old Montana dirt in her small-town backyard.

Becca awakened, jolted and dazed by booming impacts. With arms and legs paralyzed by fear, she lay in her bed. Her heart clenched and her mind cratered into itself. She imagined the worst.

Time after time, the silence boomed. The ground reverberated. The frame house swayed. Her tiny abode felt like “ground zero”.

After what seemed an hour of torturous noise, an unnerving quietness descended on the landscape. The clouds released the rain which fell like a mist fluttering with soft pulsations.

But Becca needed answers. She peered into the blackness, into the low-lying clouds and mists. A seeming perpetual blackness pervaded every crevice and cranny between rocks and trees.

What happened?

What caused the explosions?

With eyes wide open and a soul peaked in panic, she moved from window to window. She quivered on the inside. Fear drove her.

For a few quiet ageless moments, the passing of time endured. She began to believe all was well. Her heart began to hope.

And then, the fumes began to penetrate the walls. Fumes with a vague familiar odor of bleach. Fumes that triggered Becca into action and fueled her anxiety. The vague odor overpowered her and fear soon strangled her common sense. The poisons drifted in the air and acid-like raindrops fell. She choked with each breath. Her skin and eyes burned. Her tears mixed with the acid rain scarred her face.

Becca left everything; pictures, mementos, books. She left her home, land, trees, and security.


Becca remembers the drive to safety. She drove with abandon. Headlights barely punctured the strange misty darkness. The car’s windshield wipers cleared the acid raindrops, and the defroster blew toxic fumes into the vehicle. As she drove, she battled the intense desire to shout an alarm, “Danger! Danger! Danger!” Instead, Becca honked the car horn and hoped the blaring sound would awaken the sleeping neighbors. She wanted her friends safe.

And there it was, the firehouse. The silhouette seemed like a castle engulfed in mist. The firemen were gracious but stared at Becca in disbelief until the fire alarm shocked them to action.

Friends and neighbors gathered to comfort and be comforted. Stories of overturned boxcars and explosions filtered through the groups; stories that were different but the same.

Becca remembered those moments following the explosions. They are forever tattooed into her psyche. Like the engine of that train, her life chugged and blew steam; started and stopped, carried back curving loads. Losing traction and with nothing to hold in her grasp, she spun her wheels with each heavy load. Her soul, often black with the soot of her world, was burned and scalded. The train wreck and subsequent chemical spill in my life also crashed into the Montana dirt.

Becca trudged through years following the accident. Without her land, trees, and belongings, she struggled to put her life back on track.

Her life changed because of a train wreck. Following the accident, she was forced to face truths. She looked at her life and made changes.
She negotiated with herself and realized that possessions are not the end-all of life. Becca examined feelings about the experience. She questioned the priorities in her life and was awed with the beauties of her surroundings.

Her life now has a touch of color and welcomes the moonlight’s return and sees the darkness for what it is, restful and benign.