Cargo boots. A military pack. Can I cheat and pull my parachute chord while I jump? I imagine trying to over-emphasize a backward-leaning run. Knees high, arms swinging – robotic and angle-y. Who am I kidding? I would need to train for this.. train jump… waaw waaw. Even if I followed her instructions, my sedentary body would be way out of its element. Heel-toe, heel-toe – mossy patch, jump! and chaos – the fastest tumbleweed you ever did see.
Also, why am I jumping from this train? Did I miss my stop? I’m sure the next stop isn’t that far. Am I fleeing for my life? If I’m fleeing for my life I need to start training. My partner told me of a crazy story about this well-rounded man who survived without any shoes, or food, or clothes for a few weeks up in the Arctic somewhere… they had no idea how he had stayed alive until they found him – so researchers did a study and found him alive.
Well – I guess I might survive a chilly train jump up North – if I survived the landing. I wonder if my butt will start to flatten out with all this sitting. Train. Moss. Body. Running. Running from or running to. I’m running to the stories of my ancestors, many who were running from persecution. Mennonites and plat-Deutsch run through my mother’s mother’s lineage. Here is born borscht and schneken and moos, banana cake, rallkeuke and zwieback – a two-headed bun.
where rivers are born 