The Station

by Robert J. Hast­ings                                                                                                    Tucked away in our sub­con­scious is an idyl­lic vision. We see our­selves on a long trip that spans the con­ti­nent. We are trav­el­ling by train. Out the win­dows we drink in the pass­ing scene of cars on near­by highways.

But upper in our minds is the final des­ti­na­tion. On a cer­tain day at a cer­tain hour we will pull into the sta­tion. Bands will be play­ing and flags wav­ing. Once we get there so many won­der­ful dreams will come true and the pieces of our lives will fit togeth­er like a com­plet­ed jig­saw puz­zle. How rest­less­ly we pace the aisles, damn­ing the min­utes for loi­ter­ing — wait­ing, wait­ing, wait­ing for the station.

“When we reach the sta­tion that will be it!” we cry. “When I’m 18”. When I buy a new 450 SL Mer­cedes Benz!”. “When I put the last kid through col­lege”. When I have paid off the mort­gage!” “When I get a pro­mo­tion” . When I reach the age of retire­ment, I shall live hap­pi­ly ever after!”.

Soon­er or lat­er we must real­ize there is no sta­tion, no one place to arrive at once for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The sta­tion is only a dream. It con­stant­ly out­dis­tances us.

So, stop pac­ing the aisles and count­ing the miles. Instead, climb more moun­tains, eat more ice cream, go bare­foot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sun­sets, laugh more, cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. THE STATION WILL COME SOON ENOUGH !