In such a digital world, we have so little time to just reflect on our hopes and dreams before our peaceful thoughts are interrupted by the blaring of someone’s inane ring tone or someone doing the two-step to their favorite club jam brought to you by iPod, iTunes, Zune and all of the others and for those that haven’t joined the 21st century, the occasional CD player and CDs will be whipped out a bag to keep the good times rolling. As usual, my best, most profound as well as troubling thoughts will visit me during my 45-min commute to work.

Traveling underground through one borough to another, with no view of water, distraction of buildings whizzing by, my eyes and thoughts start to feast on the only other distraction around, my fellow straphangers. Many of them, to my sides and even directly in front of me were coupled up – young love whispering in each other’s ears, or love after a long night of partying woman leaning on her man’s shoulder trying to catch some Z’s, while his head is leaned up against a free silver wall or family love when one plus one actually does make three, four or five – a husband and wife likely in their thirties with their two babes sitting between them chatting away about the mundane – and me watching love occur all around.

Something about being in the midst of love that is refreshing and hopeful because in this crazy world, I figure that there has to be someone out there for me, if all of these people have found their somebody’s for the moment. On the flip side, I feel a bit left out of this love fest and start to daydream about all of those that came before – the musician I was damn near engaged to, the most recent heartbreaker all of 50, but with the maturity that God gave a rag doll, even the lovely liar – and wonder about them allowing fuzzy memories to float through my mind. Pictures of loving times and laughter – I smile feeling like I too am a part of the love fest.

As the train speeds around the corner somehow going at an ungodly speed, my happy thoughts start to turn to those of reality. I start to remember why I’m not with those particular men any more: “We should just be friends,” “I never stopped seeing other people,” “I’m having a baby and want you to support me” or my favorite, “I think I’ll just watch you eat.” Just when my thoughts begin to take on Technicolor images of their own, it’s time for me to get off and transfer trains. I get off, walk over to the other side of the train platform awaiting the local to come zooming by to scoop me up like usual. It must be a commuter thing because we all do the same thing – stare down into the pit of darkness called the train tunnel thinking that if we stare hard enough that we will conjure up a pair of headlights attached to a train to come zooming into the station.

After a few minutes, one of the transit workers saddles up to me in the attempts to make conversation. I must be a target for this type of behavior as strangers come up to talk to me all of the time. I must have “SHE AIN’T CRAZY” written somewhere on my forehead in invisible ink, as I get asked everything from train directions to if I have a quarter to make a phone call.

Transit Worker: Hi baby! I bet that you already missed your train with your pretty self.
Me: (Okay it is waaaaay too early in the morning to have to deal with somebody else’s rap game. . .) Nah baby, I’m cool, just waiting for my train.
Transit Worker: Where you heading?
Me: (Do I tell the truth? I mean he does work for the system, so he probably can help me) 59th Street.
Transit Worker: There is your train right there, no locals this weekend

And just before my eyes, the train I just got off of shuts the doors in my face and zooms off leaving me to figure out how I went wrong. DAMN!!! Oh well, good thing is there will be another one right behind it, so since I have a few moments, I engage him in conversation.

TW: So you must be single?
Me: Now, why would you think that?
TW: You look way too happy to be married.

Whoa, wait a minute, all this time, while I was sitting comfortably on my train daydreaming about how happy the couples around me looked, this man here seems to be telling a completely different story.

Me: What is that supposed to mean?
TW: Girl please! There’s always that tug-a-war that is in being married or hitched to somebody. Always have someone tailing after ya, nagging ya, man you look serene. And don’t have no kids. . . you and your woman try to sleep together and what happens, them kids be right in the middle of the two of yuh, and she hugging them up instead of you (sucks his teeth). Nah girl, you look too happy – stay single, it seems to have been good to you wit’cho fine ass.

Just at that moment, my train pulled up and I bid my fellow conversationalist good-bye, contemplating what he said. It’s funny the things we think will make us happy; it always seems to be the opposite of what you have at that moment. I guess it is natural to want what you don’t have, but I think the true lesson I was to take from that conversation was truly live in the present and stop wishing for something that ain’t here and live what I have now. Single and thanks to some subtle convincing by the universe, I guess I’m content.

Until next time. . .