🌙 The Train That Never Came

Maya hated waiting.

She hated the long wooden benches of train stations, the faint smell of oil and rust in the air, the clock hands dragging slower than time itself. But most of all, she hated the feeling of not being in control.

That Tuesday morning, she had every reason to be impatient. Her train to Chicago was already twenty minutes late, and if it didn’t arrive soon, she would miss the interview she had spent months preparing for—the opportunity of a lifetime.

She checked her phone for the tenth time. No service. Typical. Around her, other passengers grumbled, paced, or sat in silence with vacant stares. A little boy tugged on his mother’s sleeve, pointing at a pigeon pecking at crumbs. Somewhere, a loudspeaker crackled with static, but no announcement followed.

The longer she sat, the more the doubts crept in.

Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I’m not ready. Maybe this is why everything in my life feels like it’s always on hold.

She closed her eyes, trying to silence the voice in her head. That was when she heard it—an older man’s voice, calm and steady.

“Strange thing about trains,” he said.

Maya opened her eyes. An elderly man in a faded gray coat sat a few seats away, his hands folded neatly on a cane. His eyes, sharp and kind, studied her with quiet curiosity.

“They run late,” he continued, “and we curse them for it. But sometimes being forced to wait is the only way life slows us down long enough to notice what we’ve been missing.”

Maya gave a polite smile, the kind you offer strangers when you’re not in the mood for small talk. But the man didn’t push. He simply gazed out at the empty tracks as though they held secrets only he could see.

Minutes passed. Against her better judgment, Maya found herself speaking.

“I can’t afford to miss this train. I’ve got an interview in Chicago. Big company. Big chance.”

The man nodded thoughtfully. “And if you miss it?”

She hesitated. “Then… I don’t know. I guess I lose everything I’ve been working for.”

“Or,” he said gently, “you find something else. Something you weren’t expecting.”

Maya frowned. “That’s easy for you to say. What if this is my only chance?”

The man chuckled softly. “Child, life is nothing but missed trains. Some will leave without you. Others you’ll board too soon. But every so often, missing one takes you exactly where you need to be.”

Before Maya could reply, the loudspeaker crackled again. This time, an announcement: “Attention passengers: Train 14 to Chicago has been canceled due to track damage. Please see the ticket counter for alternate arrangements.”

Groans erupted across the station. Maya felt her stomach drop. Cancelled. Not just late—gone. Her chance, evaporated.

She buried her face in her hands. “That’s it. It’s over.”

The man’s cane tapped lightly against the floor. “Maybe not.”

Maya lifted her head. The old man was smiling—not pitying, not dismissive, but as though he knew something she didn’t.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

He leaned closer. “You’re sitting here in despair, but you don’t see what I see. You see failure. I see an unopened door.”

Before she could respond, a young woman nearby dropped her suitcase, spilling papers everywhere. Instinctively, Maya jumped up to help. As they gathered the scattered sheets, Maya noticed the heading: Community Outreach Program—Hiring Volunteers.

The young woman explained she worked for a local non-profit that helped underprivileged kids. They had been desperate for extra help. “You’d be perfect,” she said warmly, glancing at Maya’s resume that had slipped out of her folder.

By the time Maya sat back down, her chest felt different—lighter, as if the weight of chasing the “perfect plan” had shifted into something new. Something real.

She turned to tell the old man, but the bench was empty. No gray coat, no cane. Only the echo of his words remained.

That night, instead of arriving in Chicago for an interview that may or may not have changed her life, Maya found herself in a small community center, sitting with kids who laughed, scribbled on coloring books, and told her their dreams.

And in their eyes, she saw something she hadn’t seen in herself for years: hope.

For the first time, she realized the train she thought she had missed wasn’t her last chance. It was simply the wrong one.

Sometimes, the journeys we miss lead us exactly where we’re meant to be.