The Way Home to the Heart | Unwinding at the Station Ticket Gate

Welcome home.

Stepping onto the platform at dusk,
I find that,
deep in my chest, I can feel myself suddenly relaxing.

It is not,
a famous tourist spot,

nor is it a large station
crowded with transfers.

However,
for me,
it is the place where I can return to being "myself"


at the end of the day,
the most important place in the world.

── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ──

🚉 The station and the town are connected seamlessly

As I pass through the ticket gate,
I see the warm orange light
of the usual bakery.

From the flower shop on the corner,
the freshest "scent of the season"
for that time of year
drifts by on the breeze.

Even though a station is supposed to be just a transit point,


here,
the kindness of the town
always welcomes me a step ahead of everything else.

From the moment I stand on the platform,

my heart
is already beginning to unwind
little by little toward "home".

── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ──

🌆 The platform at dusk, a time that has stopped

People who have finished their work or errands
are waiting for the train
with their own expressions.

Some look at their smartphones,
others gaze blankly
at the sunset in the distance.

Faces showing the fatigue of the day,
footsteps hurrying home,

when seen at this time,
in this place,



they look somehow soft
and endearing,
which is a mystery.

The silence that follows after the train has departed,
a silence so deep it draws you in,
a silence that lasts just a little while.

In that silence,

the events of today,
like "little thorns,"

slowly drift away,


into the gradient of the twilight,
feeling as if they are melting and flowing away.

── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ──

📖 This station knows my time

Why,
do I love this station so much?

When I think about it,
here,
many versions of my "past self"
have stood.

A morning when I was so happy with my new shoes,
that I only looked at my feet.

A night when my presentation didn't go well,
and I walked with my head down.

There were also days when I checked
the small box in my bag over and over,

staring beyond the ticket gate
with a restless heart.
An evening when the cold February air



felt just a little bit sweet.

Every time a train arrived,
my heart would flutter, wondering if they were on it.

The platform on those days
felt just a little bit longer
than usual.

But on other days,

after waving goodbye,

there were nights when tears overflowed like a wave
the moment the train doors closed,
and I couldn't stop them.

Even though it was the same place,
the color of the sky looked different
on days I was waiting versus days I was seeing someone off.

Standing on the same platform,
each time with different feelings,
I have looked up at the sky.

The station says nothing,

but it has watched over my changes
along with the passing of the seasons
all this time.

That is why, surely,
this place is, for me,


like a "punctuation mark"
in my life.

── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ──

🚉 In closing: See you here again tomorrow

A station is
a place where people come and go.

But at the same time,

it is also a place where you can
very quietly
face yourself.

Once again today,
wrapped in the colors of twilight,

I think, "Ah, I'm glad
I could finish today
and make it back here."

Connecting the city and my heart,
I love this way home.

Now then,
under what kind of sky
will I stand on this platform tomorrow?

Perhaps this time,
is also a small habit
of cherishing myself.


・ ・ ・

── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ──

🕯️This work is participating in
the note University Fortune-Telling Club February Project
"Messages of Love and Harmony to Fill the Heart."

Click here for project details👇