"Sometimes I feel like my battered heart has the memory recall of a fish. It's so ready and willing to love again-fully. Yet, the scars are still there from before. My heart longs to leap and not hold back. It gives so freely and yet she has only tasted a few humble drops of love herself. She knows it is real. With every letter it is like a dispatch informing me of the train that is making its long journey to this particular station, my station. With every scrap of communication the train grows closer but it is still so far away. Miles, thousands, and thousands of miles he still has to travel to reach me and then- will he stop or pass by? Will I board this train and hope and pray that it takes me on the best adventure I could possibly dram of? I learn that, in fact, he is not the driver. Oh no. He is the conductor. If the train stops (by the will and power of the Engineer) then this man is the one to call me aboard. Will I go with him? The train actually stopped this time. It didn't pass by slowly with my trying to jump aboard. "I called ahead," he will say. "I told you I was coming Miss. Are you ready?" and I will say, "Yes, my darling, I am ready." I hope that's what love is like. "
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