I used to love driving. Really, really loved it. I loved it until I started to commute over an hour each way on I95/128 here in MA. Driving 128 is enough to make the most seasoned driver anxious, adding to it a significant stretch of I95 and well, hell on earth. Leaving the corporate world means I get to leave the hellish commute behind.

Now my commute is about the same amount of time, but by train. I sit on the commuter rail and read books for school or write my papers out longhand. I sit and reflect on my class I just took. I watch the sparrows fly in and out of weeds and chainlink fence. I look at rusty poles as I wait for the train to pick me up. I talk to fellow passengers or bury my nose in my book.

I don't worry that someone will be distracted by their cell phone, drift over the line and sideswipe me. I'm not on high alert waiting for the other guy to almost kill me. I havent' had to call 911 when I've witnessed an accident.

It has been glorious and peaceful in a way.

This is just one view of my commute:

I am thankful.