runaway train [corpse]

the arrival.

i love california.

from the mountain-surrounded towns to the secluded beaches, there are endless places to get lost in nature; to engage the senses.
my ears catch the echoes of waves hitting the shore if i let my mind drift for awhile. and the aroma of redwood trees fills my nostrils if i think about muir woods hard enough.

sure- the natural wonders are amazing. but the people? that's tough to say.

you always hear about folks doing whatever they can to get famous- shamelessly using each other. doing outlandish stunts. trying to go viral, often at the expense of strangers. lying for clout.

but there are a few people around who prefer anonymity; who would like to live a quiet life in the midst of chaotic surroundings.
my friend Amy is like that. she's a coordinator for a lot of volunteer work, and organizes groups of people who want to do things like working with the homeless community. her most recent project was getting a food kitchen up and running in her hometown of San Diego, where homelessness has reached crisis-level.

this is where i come in.
in my adult life i've drifted around doing work for various non-profits, which is where i met Amy a few years ago. once she told me about her latest project, i knew i wanted to be a part of it. so i packed my bags, flew in from Michigan, and joined her in her one-bedroom apartment. she invited me to stay as long as i wanted, and i happily accepted. Amy started filling me in on what was to come, the night i arrived at her place.

"we have to take the train everyday," Amy said, while setting out hot cups of tea for us to drink. "waiting on the platform itself sucks, but the ride isn't so bad. it's an hour from Poway to East Village. i'll be glad to finally not be riding by myself."

"that doesn't sound too bad," i replied, smiling at her as i moved my cup closer to myself. "i'm just looking forward to hitting the ground running- even if it's at an ungodly hour."

"i told you, you can come down later if you want to!" she said, playfully slapping my arm. then she looked at me, a softness in her eyes. "really, Cara, i know your insomnia isn't a joke, so please don't force yourself. i don't want you running yourself ragged."

i chuckled and said, "of course, of course. if i don't take care of myself, who will?"

she looked at me again. "me."

we laughed and finished chatting about last-minute details and changes for the morning ahead while we drank our tea, and then Amy disappeared into her bedroom for the night. i so appreciated that she didn't hover.

even with the few extra pillows and the fluffy comforter, the couch was not the comfiest thing in the world. but, i'd slept on many tile floors in the past while doing volunteer work so i wasn't about to be ungrateful.

i had come to accept the back pain of an 85 year old at 26 years old.

i settled into the couch, and pulled out my phone. sometimes i could trick myself into sleeping if i listened to the same sleep playlist every night. i popped in my earbuds, double-checked my alarms and reminders to take my anti-depressant in the morning, and waited for the sounds of a quiet rainstorm to help me drift off.