I saw the train at the top of the hill on two previous trips.
Once again I head toward Cleveland to take a class. Surely I could stop at “that exit with the train restaurant” this go round.
But by the time I finish home duties Thursday there is no way I can make the trip before midnight. Shucks, no train. Hmmm, if I can slip away from the class right away the next day…then maybe. I need to return through Cincinnati before President Trump shuts down the road with his evening visit, and I need to get home to prep walls for paint and visitors.
Post learning on Friday I slip away asap and head to the location I find via Google: Buckeye Express Diner.
Alone and near giddy, I drive up the hill. I ration 30 minutes. I need a late lunch and I crave minutes of peaceful adventure.
“First time?” The man at the counter asks.
I scan the menu posted on the wall and place my order before finding a seat in the train. There is a juke box and TV screen. I opt to look out the window. I take time for slow breaths. I attempt mindfulness.
My server is sweet and attentive. I wonder if people like her know how their random kindness is extra appreciated these days while I am tired and putting together the puzzle pieces of a home move.
The food is good. Yum! I eat half of it. It is just enough.
Time’s up. I am reminded as I exit that there are more good things in the future. There is special seating (with permission) in the caboose area. I make a goal to sit there next time.