There were only two seats left on the TRAX platform this time and the seats were separated from each other by a gorgeous black man.  Hubby took the closer seat as I walked past the man to sit on his other side next to a dyed-red-headed woman.  She was about as tall as me and about my age but wore her age very hard.  She hadn't had an easy life.  She was beautifully tattooed across her chest and her eyes hinted of humor and life knowledge.   Just as I was bending into a sitting position, red-headed lady jumped up and said what I thought was, "is that your bag?"
I looked at the black man and indeed there was a backpack on the seat with him, just to his side which would be next to me also... but pretty obviously his.
  I answered the lady by saying, "no, it's not mine".
 "Oh, ok" she answered and she sat back down.
 But as I thought for a moment I began to realize maybe she wasn't talking about the bag, because it didn't fit why she had jumped up so quickly and then just sat back down.
 So, I finally ask her, "Did you ask me if that bag was mine?"
 She said, "oh no, I ask if that man was yours.  I figured you wanted to sit by him", as she pointed out my hubby.
     "Oh"  I laughed.  "He is mine but I don't need to sit by him. Sometimes it is just nice to not have to sit together but thanks so much for going to give up your sit for me".
Then we started to talk and laugh.  We talked about our jobs and that we were both heading home and yes, we were tired!

    Well, we all got on the train together and she ended up right across the aisle from hubby and I.  I said to hubby, "this nice lady was going to give up her seat so I could sit by you."  and we all introduced each other. 

 Hubby asks his favorite question, "where are you originally from?"

She answers "New Jersey" and hubby just had to ask next:

 "and what brought you to Salt Lake City?"

    "Oh, dear", she said, "you had to ask".
"Well it's ok if you don't want to say", says hubby.
"No, I'll tell you" she begins but no longer does she talk with the happy-lighthearted lilt in her voice.
"One day", she quickly throws out, "there was a very bad accident and my husband and four children were killed.  I had a boy 9 yrs. old, a girl 7, another girl 3 and a baby boy of  18 months.  All killed." 
   She had been talking to her lap but then she looked up at hubby and said, "I got in my car and decided I was going to go to California no matter what.  I drove and drove and my car broke down here in Salt Lake.  I had to get a job to pay of the car bill and I have been here ever since."

Hubby and I just sat and stared for like an eternity at her.

 She continues, "I work any job I can get, I'm not like other people who say they won't work unless they get twenty bucks and hour, I will even work for ten bucks an hour.  I clean houses.  But today I even held a picket sign for two hours in front of a Maverick Store for a lady who paid me $20.00.  I've had some bad times but they were my own fault.  No one else is to blame."
She added this bit on to the end of the story and my hubby looks at her closely, puts his hands on his knees, leans in to her and asks, "Trouble with drinking?"
She nods a yes like she hasn't been able to verbalize it too much yet.  Then she falls silent for a moment.

"But, I'm over that now and I will work doing anything."  She says, "I'm 54 and I've been in Salt Lake for 27 years.  Half my life here so it's my home and my neighbors are my best friends.  Immediately she was back up to happy again and we laughingly talked about the picket line she walked on that day until we had to part.

   This is one passenger I really want to see again.  I miss her.

We're all talking again

Nobody talks to anyone in February. 

 Nobody.  

It is quiet on TRAX. 

 People huddle in their coats to try and stay warm. 

 Some ride TRAX because the street life is too cold 

and not being able to sleep out in the cold they board TRAX early and sleep on the seats. 

 I watch as many heads nod in the rhythm of the train riding on the rails.

Everyone just stares or sleeps in the darkness of the morning as we go and in the darkness of the evening and as we return.

But it is now March and it is warmer and the sun is nearly up when we arrive at our destinations. 

 People are talking.  

People are listening in on conversations and are smiling and nodding and saying hello.  

Oh how I love that people are talking again!

Gone for another year is February.

 This last one we just endured, I won't miss Feb. 2013 a single bit.

They stepped off the "Dust Bowl" platform onto our train.

Deeply carved faces exhibiting wear above what any average life could experience, what only survivors of the 1930's dust bowl had endured.  They wore hair dried and brittle from days on end of blowing desiccant bombarding each strand. With eyes red-rimmed and unfocused, a bit too watery as if glands still wanted to quench recently parched eyeballs, the two of them searched for a seat.

Were they officially older women?  I don't know, hard to tell by the age masking effects of a severely hard life.  One wore very heavy makeup that only accentuated the lines and furrows of her forehead eyes and neck.  But it was obvious why she put so much make-up on as a deep purplish blue bruise glowed from under the pancake make-up on her left cheek bone.  The lower eye-lid on the left eye, being slightly swollen, was inhibiting her upper lid from traveling the entire distance to close the eye at each blink.  The result was a look at constantly winking at whatever she gazed at.

The talked and laughed lightly yet unconcerned about anyone who might be eavesdropping.  Their body and hand movements seemed over exaggerated, maybe all for attention as they and plopped into the seat across from hubby and I. 

But, by golly, these pair of ladies were dressed to the nines, flouncy blouses under mangy fake fur coats,  hoary calloused, disjointed feet wedged in scandals, freshly pressed and cleaned trousers - all clothing much too lightweight for a cold night like tonight. It was as if they hoped all the clanking heavy costume jewelry would ward off winter frost bite.

Where had they been? I thought.  Where had they walked from to get to this platform?

 And maybe better yet, where were they going?