Sitting in the Front of the Train

DAY 15

I always sit at the front of the train, whether I like it or not, whether I want to or not. The mini-high block puts the wheelchair using rider on that first car and that the only place a wheelchair user can ride. It seems I am always on display, its always show time. When I ride, I usually have a book and I try to read in an effort to pre-occupy my self during the ride. Many times though when I am reading I can feel the stare. I can feel people looking at me. This happened to me this morning. I am sitting in the front of the train, head down and reading and I get the feeling. Now when I get the feeling I some times jerk my head up with a snap to see if I can catch the leer and catch him in his crip-stare; other times I am more subtle and slowly lift my head and pretend I am doing something else and casually survey the riders till I can find the eyes boring into me.

This morning, when I looked up, way in the back of the train, I noted an attractive older, silver haired women staring beatifically at me. The stare wa so intense and un-compromised that I thought I had mistakenly gotten in the “line of fire”. This stare was obviously for someone else. I as sitting with my back against the wall, there was no one behind me but yet she was starring and staring hard. I had to be the focus of her gaze. It was flat ass weird. This was not the first stare I have ever incurred I shrugged it off and returned to my book. Two stops later I looked up and she was gone. I did not see her exit the vehicle. Why was she starring so intently, at what seemed to be ...me?

I know this is going to sound romantically stupid…but I am a person who was adopted into a great family even before I was born. It is a remarkable story and maybe one I will write about at some point in the blog but not now. The point is I was adopted never knowing my birth parents. Never wanting to know; know these people has never been relevant to me in my life. I have been receiving some pressure from my kids to some degree especially regarding hereditary issues of life spans, disease susceptibility and biological origins. I am the big question mark in their lives. I still have to sort these questions out. But back to the to romantic question, What if I was being stalked by a progenitor? Is this too weird a question? I mean, who would not want to reclaim me? What a find. Go back and see what you gave up fifty some years ago. Reconnect with a life thought lost—It's happening all the time these day. What if you were lucky enough to find him. Sitting in his powerchair, sitting in the front of the train reading his book, wouldn't you stare?