For everyone stuck in their house, and unable to travel, I am here. Please play this song. I made it for you. I am taking you out of there now. Press play. Close your eyes. Come with me. For the next few minutes, we are going across the country by train. See everything. Hear everything. Feel everything. I am here to take you there. Please, for a few moments, know that you are free. Let’s go. The train is waiting. It is an old steam train, black iron and polished brass, breathing quietly beside the platform. White steam rolls beneath the wheels and drifts across the tracks like morning fog. You climb aboard. The door closes gently behind you. There is nothing you need to carry. Nothing you need to finish. Nothing you need to worry about right now. Find a seat beside the window. The whistle sounds. Deep. Long. Somewhere ahead, the engine pulls against the weight of the passenger cars. The first movement is almost too small to notice. Then— click. click. click. The wheels find the rails. The station begins to move away. Buildings slide past the glass. A crossing bell rings somewhere behind us. The town grows smaller. Houses become rooftops. Rooftops become distant shapes. And then suddenly there is open land. Fields stretch farther than you can see. Tall grass bends in the wind. Fence posts pass one after another beside the tracks. For a while, we follow a river. Sunlight flashes across the water between the trees. You can see birds rising from the reeds as the train approaches. The wheels continue beneath us. Steady. Certain. Always moving forward. The countryside changes. Green fields become wide golden plains. Farmhouses sit miles apart beneath enormous skies. Old barns lean beside dirt roads. Cattle lift their heads as the locomotive passes. At a lonely crossing, a truck waits patiently while the long line of passenger cars rolls by. Someone standing beside it raises a hand. You wave back. Maybe they see you. Maybe they don’t. It doesn’t matter. We keep going. The land begins to rise. Far ahead, mountains appear through the haze. At first they are only shadows. Then slowly they become enormous. Rock faces. Pine forests. Snow still resting in places the sun cannot reach. The train begins climbing toward them. The engine works harder now. You hear the steam. The slow mechanical rhythm. The rails singing beneath the wheels. We enter a valley where the mountains rise on both sides of us. A river runs beside the tracks, clear and cold, tumbling over stone. The train crosses an old iron bridge. For a few seconds there is nothing beneath us but open air and water far below. Look down if you want. Or don’t. Just listen. The bridge disappears behind us. Ahead is a tunnel cut directly through the mountain. Everything goes dark. The sound changes. The wheels echo from stone walls. Steam rolls past the windows. For a moment the entire world is only sound. Then a tiny white point appears ahead. It grows. Brighter. Closer. And suddenly we burst back into daylight. The view on the other side is completely different. A vast open valley lies beneath us. Mountains surround it. A lake reflects the sky like glass. The train curves around the hillside, and from your window you can see the locomotive far ahead and the passenger cars bending behind it. Smoke trails above the entire train. For a moment, it looks exactly like something from an old movie. Maybe that is where we are. Maybe for these ten minutes, this is our movie. The afternoon begins turning gold. Long shadows stretch across the land. The windows glow with sunset. We pass through another small town. A station. A water tower. A few people waiting on the platform. Then we are gone again. Miles pass. The world outside becomes quieter. The mountains slowly fall behind us. The sky turns orange. Then pink. Then deep blue. One by one, distant lights begin appearing. Farmhouses. Small towns. Porch lights. Windows. Lives continuing quietly out there in the darkness. Inside the train, everything feels warm. The steady movement beneath you has become familiar now. You no longer notice every turn. Every rail joint. Every sound. You simply know that we are moving. And for a little while, there was nowhere you could not go. No locked door. No wall. No distance too far. You crossed fields. Rivers. Bridges. Mountains. Valleys. Towns you have never seen. Places that may not even have names. And you did not have to ask permission. The train begins to slow. Not yet. Just a little farther. Stay by the window. There is one last stretch of open country ahead. The moon is rising over the mountains now. The steam from the locomotive drifts silver beneath it. The wheels soften beneath us. click... click... click... Wherever you are when this ends, remember something. For these few minutes, you were not there. You were here. On this train. Watching the country pass outside your window. And whenever you need to leave again— this train will still be waiting. The whistle sounds somewhere ahead. Take one last look outside. We are almost there. But not quite yet. Stay with me. Just a little longer. You are still free. And the train is still moving.
