Amtrak has become a huge part of my life over the past few years. Though it’s often quite pricey, it gets me from college to home and vice versa safely and soundly. I used to be quite scared of sitting on the train alone for 7 hours, but after a couple of solo trips, it became a pretty natural process for me. Those 7 hours give me the space to catch up on a good book, process the things in my life that I’ve been too busy to give real thought to, and get ahead on work or school. The alone time does me wonders, and it’s something I was really looking forward to as I stepped onto the train to Richmond last week.
The train was fully booked, so our seats were assigned to us. I made my way down the aisle, eventually finding my seat – D14. In the seat directly next to mine was a middle-aged white man. He offered to lift my huge suitcase onto the overhead compartment, and my noodle arms were quite thankful that he did. I thanked him, sat down, and remained quiet for the first two hours of the train ride as I typed up some articles for my internship. Most people on the train weren’t talking unless they were sitting with friends or family members, so the lack of conversation between me and my seat-mate did not surprise nor disappoint me. As I chipped away at my work for the week, I noticed him taking pictures of the scenery that we were passing by, just as I often do when I am blessed with the window seat. When we were pulling up to the 30-minute Washington D.C. stop, he turned to me, explained that it was his first time taking Amtrak, and asked if it was a bad idea to leave his belongings on the train while he finds the bathroom. I told him that it’s a pretty safe train, but that I usually take my bags anyway. He thanked me, and we talked briefly about our respective destinations before getting off the train.
Continue reading “My Train Ride with a Capitol Attacker” →
Like most girls, I grew out of my American Girl Doll phase at around age 10, and after that, my sweet little Rebecca Rubin had little purpose. However, one summer night a few years ago, I decided I would play with her once more. I began to rummage through her clothes basket and found all the outfits that I was once so obsessed with. I dressed her up in all of these outfits that night. Every single one. I tried a bunch of different hairstyles on her, and I read her some of the books that I “hand-made” for her back in the day. That night made me feel like a kid again, and now I have one of those nights at least once a year.
It’s a little tradition between Rebecca and I, and it’s usually something I do solely to feel like a kid again. Last night, however, honoring this tradition meant a little more than just jumping back into childhood for the night. Last night I realized how crucial she was to my growth all those years back.
Continue reading “My American Girl Doll” →
I’ve tried to write and edit this post so many times. For some reason, every draft I’ve written has sounded like a typical seventh grade Instagram birthday shoutout, and Shakti (also known as the person who proofreads all my posts) deserves much more than that on her 17th birthday. The truth is that I could go on and on about all the memories we’ve made such as singing along to music at the top of our lungs every car and bus ride we’ve been on together, Facetiming for hours every night, making music videos in my basement, spending every middle and high school formal together, and so many more. I could go on and on about how excited I am to room with her in Disney next year, graduate side by side, and go on our road trip next summer. I could go on and on about all our inside jokes from “Guess the body part!” to “GO OFF SHAKTI”. However, no one will understand a post like that because 99% of our memories, future plans, and inside jokes are SO weird. So let’s stray from the “seventh-grade-birthday-shoutout” theme and get to the part that I want the world to read.
Continue reading “Happy Birthday, Shakti” →