A Ticket to the Rails

A long time ago I was given a ticket to the rails. I still have it with me. It's crumpled in my pocket. I don't remember when I got my ticket, but I know it is still here with me.
When I boarded the train I found my seat next to a window so I could see the moments fly by. Now I have been on this train for 20 years. My seat is flattened from years of sitting. I no longer jump up to hang my head out the wimdow when we lurch around a bend. I no longer strain my eyes to see every color in the rainbow as we chug underneath.
Today is just another normal day on the train. "First stop!" the conductor calls out as the wheels creak to a halt. I glance towards the front to see if this is a pickup or a drop off. It's a pickup. A young child scrambles onto the train, waving her ticket. She searches for a window seat, just like when I first boarded. She balances on her knees with her face pressed to the glass as the train starts up again. Her eager eyes dane with excitement and joy.
Around the next bend the train stops again. the door doesn't open, so I know this must be a drop off. Everyone shuffles uncomfortably in their seats as the conductor scans the faces. "Young man," the conductor calls toa kid behind me. "Your ticket has expired son." A look of fear fills the boy's eyes. He cries out ina an angry voice as the train door opens. "This isn't fair! I didn't get to ride as long as the others!" The conductor throws the boy's luggage onto the ground as he pats the boy's back. "sorry son." the passengers grow quiet as the train pulls off. It happens all the time, but it is still awkward for those of us left behind.
Soon darkness creeps into the train cars, and I drift off to sleep. Sometime during the night, the rock of the train halts and I wake with a start. I squint through the dim light and see the conductor shaking hands with an elderly gentleman. Another drop off. The elderly man gathers his bags in his gnarled hands and steps off the train. The conductor tips his hat and closes the door. As the train pulls off I stare at the old man standing beside the track. His eyes glint with bittersweet tears.
I settle back into my seat and think. The familiar passengers around me sleep peacefully. My face presses against the cool glass. My breath fogs the window as I stare into the night. The black sky yawns above us, broken every now and then by glints of light. I hang my head out the window for the first time in years. With my eyes I trace the silver tracks strecting ahead of us. The train flies on.
I don't know when the next drop off will be. I don't know when we'll get a new passenger. All I know is that I am still here on this long train as it trudges on...forever.