I am a spoiled New Yorker. I had the luxury of growing up in Carroll Gardens and being only ten minutes away from the City so any commute longer than an hour just seemed ridiculous. I wear a badge of the travels I do not do because of their lengthy necessary commute. Now, I live in what my friend affectionately calls “Far Ridge” and to travel anywhere, even within the five boroughs is definitely more of an investment of my time. Often times the amount of time it takes to go somewhere makes you count the costs, assessing whether the trip is worth it, but then you are reminded of the Beauty: the Beauty in the friends you get to see when you take the trip, the Beauty in being able to go so many places even when you don’t have a car, the Beauty in having more time to read a book, the Beauty in your darling children falling asleep in your arms and on your lap while the train rocks them to sleep, the Beauty in appreciating reaching your destination, the Beauty in long commutes.
My normal commute consists of one stop on an express train, 7 stops on a different express train, and lastly 4 stops on the train that takes me to my home. On this night, the second leg of the trip was exceptionally long, each stop had prolonged waits with the doors open, doors closed, and at some stations, closed and opened. My usual 60/70 minute trip was now nearly 100 minutes. The next morning in my free commuters’ newspaper, I read that a police officer had been shot and responded with deadly shots on the very train I was to be on only 40 minutes before. Often times, I stare down the tunnel corridor and sigh loudly and look at other commuters who are just as frustrated as we throw our hands up in utter disgust, but then I am reminded of the Beauty: the Beauty of the God’s protection, the Beauty of timing, the Beauty of another train will come, the Beauty of favor; the Beauty of getting home safely; the Beauty in delays.