A One-Word Invitation, Chalked on an Abandoned Railroad Track: Day Twenty-Two

This post is part of the Secret Messages Project.  Every day for thirty days, I’ll leave my words in places where they might be found — or might never be found at all.  I hope you’ll join me. 

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I stumbled over a set of abandoned railroad tracks today — the weeds grown high between the rails.

For a long time I stood there in the sunset-light, looking down the tracks and thinking about seasons.  Because even strong, fast, forever-seeming things like trains have a season.  They serve us for a time, and then they don’t.  The weeds run over the tracks and the light catches in the feather-tufted seedheads, and what was useful becomes beautiful, in a different way than before.

And this — all of this — is no tragedy.

I thought for a minute about what it was this moment was saying.  Then I fished around in my bag for my favorite piece of chalk, and I wrote an invitation on one of the rails — for you.

I hope you’ll join me. ❤