Tucked away in our ubconcioune i an idyllic viion. we ee ourelve on a long trip that pan the continent.We are travelling by train. out the window, we drink in the paing cene of car on nearby highway,of children waving on a croing,of cattle grazing on a ditant hillide,of moke pouring from a power plant,of row upon row of corn and wheat,of flatland and valley, of mountain and rolling hillide,of city kyline and village hall.
But the uppermot in our mind i the final detination.On a certain day at a certain hour,we will pull into the tation.Band will be playing and flag waving.Once we reach there, o many wonderful dream will come true and the piece of our live will be fit together like a completed jigaw puzzle.How retlely we pace the aile,damning the minute loitering,waiting, waiting, waiting for the tation.
“When we reach the tation,that will be it”,we cry.